


Under Your Touch

by stars_fall_on



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Massage, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/pseuds/stars_fall_on
Summary: What happens when Mandy gets Mickey a voucher for a special massage for his birthday, and Ian Gallagher happens to be his masseur?!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks,
> 
> this is a new short multi chapter, probably not longer than 3 or 4 chapters. But since the first one could also stand alone, I'm making it a 1/1 first, adding the other chapters later on.
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> A huge Thanks to my awesome beta and good friend @Nicrenkel, who also just posted another chapter of “Milkovich extended“ Check it out <3

“Happy birthday, asswipe!“  
  
The wonderful sound of his sister’s voice tears him out of his dreams. “Not a good time!“ he grumbles, grabbing the pillow beside him, plopping onto his stomach and covering his head and ears with the plush.  
  
His happiness lasted for about three seconds, before his bitch of a sister pulls the pillow off his head and smacks his ass with it. “Yeah, it’s never a good time with you,“ she chides, ignoring his yelp of pain, “Get the fuck up, I made birthday breakfast for your ass.“  
  
He turns on his back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands while Mandy watches him with crossed arms infront of her B-cup tits. “Pfft! Bitch please, you don’t even know how to use our stove.“

It earns him a roll of her eyes and an annoyed smirk. “Lucky me, your favorite breakfast is cherry Pop-Tarts.“ With that, she stomps back off into the kitchen where she came from.  
  
“What’d I ever do to deserve this pain in the ass of a sister?“ he sighs desperately to himself, rubbing his eyes one more time before sitting up.  
  
“MICKEY!“  
  
“FUCK, calm your tits, I’m coming!“  
  
He makes his way out of his room and into the bathroom, needing to take a piss urgently. Five minutes into this day and he already wishes it was over. He can’t even take a piss in silence, Mandy constantly complaining about his Pop-tarts getting cold.  
  
When he reaches the kitchen and the table where they always eat together, he finds two of the promised sweets on a plate, a white envelope next to it. “What’s that?“ he nods with raised brows in the direction of the paper.  
  
“Your gift, douchbag!“  
  
“Told you I don’t want something,“ he groans, already knowing that Mandy now will want something for her birthday as well. Otherwise, she’ll hold it against him forever.  
  
The brunette girl just shrugs slightly, “Don’t worry. It’s more like a present for me.“  
  
Horror scenarios already start forming behind Mickey's inner eye, his migrane close to erupting. “Fuck Mandy, I told you I won’t go with you to the ’whatever-fucking-brother’s‘ concert.“  
  
“It’s ’Jonas Brother’s‘, you pussy,“ she scoffs, “And it’s not. Just open your goddamn present, Mick!“  
  
“Fuck, fine“ he grumbles and makes his way over to the table. He plops down on his seat and takes an aggressive bite from the cold cherry Pop-tart. At least it’s sweet. He likes ’em sweet. He takes the envelope between his thumb and index-finger and turns it around suspiciously. “Is it a bomb?“  
  
An annoyed sigh leaves his sister’s lips. “Yeah, Mick. It’s a bomb. I wish you a bombastic birthday!“  
  
He slips his finger inside the envelope and opens it up just a little. “You said it’s like a present for you. So who knows.“  
  
“At least I got an idea for next year’s present out of this shitty conversation. Thanks, bro.“  
  
The brunet opens it completely, taking out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and reads hesitantly over the words, written on the sheet. “The fuck‘s this?“ He can’t even pronounce the word that’s standing there in uppercase letters.  
  
“A voucher.“  
  
“Yeah, I can read that. The thing standing next to it.“  
  
“Which one? Massage?“  
  
Mickey rolls his eyes. “I can also read that, assface! The – Ayu-whatever thing.“  
  
His sister chuckles lightly. “Oh. You mean Ayurveda,“ she finally utters, “That’s a special form of a massage.“ When Mickey only stares at her with raised brows, waiting for another form of explanation, she goes on, “You need to get laid.“ she states matter of factly, “And since you won't let me set you up with someone, you at least need to get that tension off. You’re a pain in the ass for a few months now.“  
  
“I’m so lucky to have you as a sister, eh?“  
  
Now it’s Mandy’s turn to roll her eyes dramatically, “Oh fuck you. And you’re welcome.“  
  
“So you figured, since I don’t have time to let someone rub my dick, I have enough time to let someone rub my back? That’s so gay!“  
  
“You’re gay!“ she pokes her tongue out at him. “And no, I knew better than to hope you’ll make an appointment for a massage.“ She lets a pregnant pause follow her words, excitement all written over her face. “So I already made one for you.“  
  
Now Mickey’s eyes widen in shock. “You did what? God Mandy, I can’t take two hours out of my schedule and go to a fucking massage. I have work. And at the moment I have a huge fucking lot to do. You know about the new job we got for our company. You know how much I have to work right now.“  
  
The slim woman throws her hands up in surrender, before crossing them in front of her chest and staring at him sternly. “And that’s _exactly_ why you need to do it.“ She sounds like his mother, “No one needs a stressed out construction supervisor, who’s yelling at his employees constantly because he doesn’t find time in months to get a dick up his ass!“  
  
Mickey scrunches his face in disgust. “Can you please stop talking about a dick in my ass? That’s not hot at all, coming from your mouth.“  
  
Obviously not knowing what to say, Mandy sighs and turns around to leave. “Wednesday, 5pm,“ she mumbles on her way to her room. She takes one last look at her still dumbfounded brother, yells “You’re welcome!“ and slams the door shut.  
  
The sheet of paper still in one hand, he rubs over his face with the other one.  
  
“And HAPPY BIRTHDAY!“ his sister once again shouts through the walls, before Mickey takes another bite from his cold Pop-tart.  
  
“Yeah. Happy birthday to me!“  
  
 

  
  
He still can’t believe he’s here. He still can’t believe Mandy bought this voucher for a faggy massage in this fucking beauty salon or whatever the fuck this is for him. Was she high when she bought it? Did she rally thought about him? Because everything in here screams “This isn’t something where Mickey would feel comfortable _at all_ “ fucking loud and clear.  
  
Everything looks white and clean and fucking steril. Only the furniture is coloured in soft pastel colors, like pink.  _Fucking pink!_  
  
The only thing Mandy was right about was the tension, he can’t shake off since he got this new job for his company months ago. Or lets say she was right about the missing dick in his ass, that could easily pound this tension away. But he just didn’t make it to Boystown. Everytime he thought about cutting his job early and going there, one of his employees came up to him and deluged him with new work. They constructed and built this new hospital for the North Side for eight months now, with no ending in sight. On the contrary, Mickey has the feeling the more they work, the more they open Pandora’s box with hundreds of difficulties to conquer.  
  
Still. He doesn’t belong here. He just should drive to the next bar in Boystown and get his dick wet, since he already took the hours off for today. He’s already on his heels to turn around and back out when the secretary catches sight of him. “Can I help you, Sir?“  
  
“Uhm,“ he stutters, the denying answer already on the tip of his tongue, when he looks nervously around the room and suddenly spots a very attractive redhead on the other end of the place. He‘s talking to a small Indian-looking young lady, both wearing the same kind of white and definitely tight uniform. Mickey could go without seeing the relatively large breasts through the woman’s too tight top, but he‘s definitely not averse to the white shirt that leaves no room for speculation about the young man's abs. It’s fucking hot. His eyes travel further down his well-toned body and he almost wants to thank God for inventing white, tight jeans, when he spots his bulge. Because. Holy fuck this boy is packing!  
  
“Uhm sorry, Sir?“ the secratary tears him off his daydream, “Are you Mr. Milkovich?“  
  
His pupils wander rapidly between the secretary’s eyes and the redhead’s body, before he takes a step towards the front desk and nods lightly. “Uhm, yeah. That’s me.“  
  
She gives him a smile and starts introducing herself to him, explaining some things about the massage and studio. He doesn’t give a shit, though, his eyes wandering back to where his new jerking-off material is standing. It’s only when she says, “Mr. Gallagher will be your masseur for today,“ that his eyes and ears are back on her.  
  
Somehow he hopes there’s only one male working in this studio, while at the same time he’s scared that this could end pretty embarrassing for him, when this hot guy lays his hands on him. He doesn’t even have enough time to wonder, though, since suddenly the redhead is standing beside him, reaching out his hand. “Hi. I’m Ian.“  
  
The brunet turns to face him, only locking the gaze shortly and shakes his hand. He doesn’t need his masseur to see right through him, since he’s sure he’s a little bit blushing at their touch. “Mickey.“  
  
Ian is giving him a smile full of teeth, but Mickey is distracted from counting all the freckles splattered across this man’s beautiful face. “Hi Mickey. I’m your masseur for today. Please come with me.“  
  
Even though the brunet knows exactly what Ian was referring to, following the tall ginger into a room in the last corner of the building, he can only think of one way he wants to come with Ian..  
  
Goddamn, it. Mickey curses at himself inwardly for coming here or not insisting to have the Indian looking woman massaging his body. The way his guts tingle from only watching Ian is embarassing in so many ways. He doesn’t want to find out what happens if this boy starts rubbing his skin with oily hands.  _Shit_!  
  
“Okay,“ Ian clasps his hands after closing the door right after Mickey, “Please take everything off behind the curtain, lay with your stomach on the bed, and put your face through this opening.“  
  
Mickey’s eyes widen in shock, “ _Everything_?“  
  
The redhead looks at him softly, a hint of insecurity flashing  in his emerald green eyes. “Uhm.. _yes_?!“ He then turns at Mickey suspiciously, “You never done an Ayurveda Massage before?“  
  
The brunet furrows his brows and snaps back, the only way he’s used to react on the feeling of being caught redhanded, “Do I look like a guy who already did an Ayu-whatever-it-is massage before?“  
  
To his surprise, Ian’s smile gets even brighter and softer, his cheeks turning red. “Not really. No.“  
  
Mickey shrugs. “So, nope,“ he plops the ‘p‘ dramatically, “I’ve never done that before. That a problem?“  
  
Now Ian seems to feel caught off guard, his flush spreading. Mickey chides himself for finding him even cuter now. “No, not at all,“ the redhead stammers, before pressing the heels of his hands firmly together. “Okay, so.. it's a full body massage from head to toe, usually done completely naked. You want a string, though? It would still work with -“  
  
“A string? Fuck no, I’m not a bitch.“  
  
Before he steps behind the curtain to undress himself (oh, Mandy will have to pay for this!), he can see Ian's lips twitching to a smile. He pretends his heart doesn’t flip at it.  
  
When he steps out again, completely naked just like god created him, Ian stands with his back to the bed, arranging some essential oils on the counter infront of him. The brunet pauses for a second to admire that well trained ass, before laying face down on the mattress.  
  
A few seconds pass, where Mickey tries to get comfortable on that bed, positioning his cock under his stomach, before he can see through that hole, how Ian’s feet turn into his direction. It looks as if he wants to make a step, but something seems to make him stop dead in the tracks. Mickey could also swear he hears him sucking in a sharp breath. It’s a weird situation and he definitely feels exposed and uncomfortable laying butt naked in front of a hot redhead.  
  
It feels like minutes gone by, until Ian does the last step to the side of the mattress and lays his warm and soft hands on the middle of Mickey‘s back for the first time. “Okay Mickey, first I'm going to oil you up and then I'm going to start with your head and shoulders and work my way down to your feet. When I'm done with your back, I'll tell you to turn around and I'll go dow- _uuuh_ \- massage your frontside. That okay?“  
  
Mickey has to chuckle a little at the almost Freudian slip. Or at least, that’s what Mickey hopes that it was. But Ian looks like a professional. He probably won’t go down on him right here and there. Those are the wet dreams Mickey has to take home for tonight.  
  
Only then, Ian’s words come back to his mind. At some point, he’ll have to turn around and lay naked in front of him. He only prays to god this won’t be a completely embarassing situation. But due to the warm and tingling feeling that’s already spreading in his body, just from the big and soft hands that rest in the middle of his back, he knows his body will probably betray him and make shit even worse.  
  
“Mickey?“  
  
Ian’s gentle voice tears him out of his hammering thoughts. “Uhm. Sure. Yeah. Whatever,“ he stammers, squeezing his eyes shut and praying to all good lords, that this massage won’t take a disastrous end. At the moment, it’s not relaxing at all. On the contrary. After all the sexual frustration that is stalled in his body for months now, he knows he‘ll have to tense all his muscles and think about pinching Mandy’s tits afterwards, to not get hard and make a complete fool out of himself infront of Ian. He’d probably shock this shy guy for his life.  
  
“Okay,“ Ian breathes out and Mickey can practically see him having this awesome smile on his face, “So if you feel uncomfortable or something, just tell me.“  
  
If only Ian would know…  
  
But instead of telling his masseur that he already feels uncomfortable as hell, Mickey nods slightly, not wanting to make this also weird for Ian. After all, this boy’s just doing his job and has no idea about the porno that’s playing out in Mickey’s head.  
  
The brunet inhales deeply through his nostrils and tries to concentrate on something completely unsexual, feeling the tension fading a bit away. That is, until Ian starts pouring warm oil onto his back and spreads it over his whole body. His. Whole. Body.  
  
Mickey swears he's jumping in bed, when Ian‘s soft and warm hands roam over his ass cheeks and down his thighs. But the redhead doesn't seem to notice, or at least mind. He's stroking his whole backside with his warm and oily hands, making the older one‘s skin prickle and his body getting hot. How the fuck should he make it through 75 minutes without his dick stirring awake? Ian has just started and his skin already feels on fire.  _Fuck_.  
  
Luckily, it doesn’t take Ian much longer to spread the oil all over him and Mickey sees his slippers appearing right under his head again. Damn, this guy has pretty big feet. Big feet, big d….  _GAH!_  
  
Suddenly he feels Ian’s long fingers threading through his hair, massaging his scalp. “That okay? The pressure good enough?“  
  
It’s the first time Mickey feels carried away. “Yeah. That's - that feels pretty good actually,“ he sighs, starting to relax with every circling movement of Ian’s fingers on his head. It’s not only that he lets go of the sexual tension that’s bothering him at the moment, but also of the last few weeks, that were busy as hell in his job.  
  
A comfortable silence spreads in the room, where Ian's magic fingers rub Mickey's tension and stress away. It even lasts for minutes, without the brunet thinking about Ian's or his own dick. Not even when the redhead wanders from his scalp to his shoulders and starts massaging the knots out of them.  
  
“You - uhm -“ , Ian starts lowly and hesitantly, “You have really strong thighs. You a sportsman?“  
  
Mickey can't help the little smile that tugs on the corner of his lips. A sportsman, ha! “No. Just hitting the gym every now and then.“  
  
“ _Huh_ ,“ he hears Ian huffing, “I also hit the gym almost every day, but I guess I'll never have thighs like this.“  
  
Mickey doesn't know what to respond to that. Is Ian complimenting him? Is he checking him out, while he lays there butt naked?  
  
It’S getting awkwardly silent in the room, which Ian seems to notice. “Sorry, I didn't want to offend you.“  
  
Mickey isn't used to people apologizing to him. Not for hits, not for abuses and definitely not for compliments. So it's like a completely new situation he finds himself into and he absolutely has no idea how to deal with nice words. The only thing he knows is that Ian's shyness is kind of cute, which is irritating as hell. But he somehow feels the urge to comfort him, not wanting the redhead to be ashamed of the situation or something. “Don't worry. Everything's good.“  
  
A sigh of relief leaves the masseur's lips, or at least it's what Mickey believes he's heard, before he feels Ian's warm and oily hands back on his back.   
  
At first everything feels fine again, great even, and Mickey finds himself drifting into that welcoming trance again. Until Ian starts massaging exactly those parts, that hurt the brunet like a motherfucker. “Oh, those knots are rockhard. I'll try to loosen your back muscles a bit. Try to relax and breathe through the pain, alright?“  
  
Determind to follow Ian's instructions, Mickey holds out for about three seconds, before he starts wincing and moaning like a little bitch. He can't even suppress it, the Southside thug is brought to his knees from Ian's massaging hands. It hurts, but at the same time Mickey feels the tension leaving his body. It's like having sex after a long time. First of all there's pain, but it's quickly giving way to pleasure. And then Mickey feels like he's floating on cloud nine.  
  
“Am I too rough?“ Ian asks through Mickey's groans, “Shall I make it -“   
  
“No,“ the smaller one cuts him off in an instant, “I.. I like it hard and rough.“  
  
“ _Fuck_.“ Now Mickey _definitely_ is sure that Ian murmured those words in a pretty desperate way. “O-okay,“ he adds quickly. His fingers keep kneading and Mickey keeps gasping.  
  
As soon as Ian has massaged the tension out of Mickey's back, his hands wander lower and lower, and the brunet can't deny that the prickling inside his guts gets heavier. Suddenly the hands are gone and seconds later he feels warm oil dripping over his lower back and ass. God, he really has a hard time to supress every upcoming thought of Ian and oil and him being naked, because it's the last thing he needs right now. Getting aroused, when he soon has to turn around would be fucking embarassing for the both of them. He suddenly wishes it would've been this Indian chick having her hands on him. Because THAT would definitely NOT turn him on. But Ian...   
  
Ian starts massaging his ass cheeks, and Mickey feels hot all over his body. It has been weeks (or months?) since someone laid hands on his ass. And it's definitely been the first time it's someone that hot.   
  
The redhead roams his hands from his lower back over his butt and a little down his thighs, making Mickey almost faint in pleasure. He feels his dick twitching, feels it hardening even though he tries to focus on old ladies tits. It doesn't seem to help. His length is growing beneath his stomach and the friction that happens on his cock from his body that moves with Ian's strokes just makes it impossible for him to stop.   
  
He isn't aware that he cramps his legs tightly together until Ian's hand curls around his thigh a little above his knee. “Spread your legs a little,“ he instructs and lifts them gently up to spread Mickey open.  
  
God, this is getting worse and worse with every passing second. Mickey is sure Ian is now able to see his constricted and tight balls, giving him all the information he needs about his twitching dick underneath him.  
  
But he seems not to be the only one, letting out a shaky breath in this situation. Again, he has the feeling of hearing a desperate gasp coming from his masseur, before latter continues to rub his ass cheeks, sliding down the inside of his thighs, dangerousely close to his balls. Mickey’s glad that he was so smart to place his meanwhile rock hard dick beneath his belly, even though it's getting a little uncomfortable to lay on it. Shifting slightly doesn’t help him with cooling down. He bites hard on his lower lip to keep from moaning, while Ian keeps massaging his butt.

 _Shit,_ Mickey really wonders, if Ian has also spent so much time on his other body parts than he's doing on his ass. Having those long fingers kneading and massaging his cheeks, so close to where he wants to be touched so badly, while his leaking dick rubs against the fabric of the bed and the prickling gets heavier, he knows that if it doesn't stop any second, this is going to become the most embarassing moment of his entire life. He’s pretty sure, no other client of Ian came just from that.

He needs to stop that. Needs to prtoect Ian and himself from this barely inescapeable, awkward moment. Taking up on his last strategy about old tits and vaginas, he tries to calm down, tries to breathe deeply and focus on anything other than this hot guy massaging his neglected butt.

That is until Ian suddenly (and probably unintentionally) brushes with his sliding fingers against Mickey‘s balls, who immediately jerks at the touch and lets out a shuddered “ _Christ!_ “ under his breath.

Ian seems to notice. “Huh?“

Within seconds, Mickey has to make a decision. Since Ian will see him rock hard in a few minutes anyway, he pretends to be the tough guy, going straight forward and confront him. Well, he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes, though. He lets out a sigh, before speaking still through the hole in his bed, “Look, if you don't stop rubbing my ass anytime soon, we'll have a bit of a problem here.“

In an instant, Ian‘s hands are away from his body. “Oh, shit, fuck. I'm so sorry, Mickey. I swear, usually I'm a professional at my work and I don't know –“ he stammers faster than Mickey can understand, “ _Fuck_. I'm so sorry. There's a complaint letter on the outside, which you can fill out - I mean – _Shit_ , I'd be happy if you don't, but I completely get it if you -“

The brunet knitts his brows in confusion, not getting what Ian is talking about. Why _he_ is apologizing and talking about an complaint letter Mickey can fill out? _What the fuck?_  Still tapping in the dark about Ian’s rambling, he slowly turns around to face him. And suddenly, shit makes sense…

Seems like he's not the only one rock hard and leaking in this room. “ _Jesus_ ,“ he breathes, not able to look away from what Ian is packing inside those white, tight jeans.

The redhead, now completely flushed and panting, follows Mickey's gaze and immediately clasps a hand infront of the wet stain on his crotch. “I'm so sorry,“ Ian starts again, staring painfully ashamed to the floor, “That's unprofessional and shouldn't have happened. I'm better leaving and getting Tamesha for you to-“

Mickey cuts him off with a chuckle coming deep down from his chest. “Goddamn, Gallagher, would you please shut the fuck up.“ He shakes his head, pleasantly surprised and amused about the turn of events. He lets a few heartbeats pass, before he locks Ian’s dumbfounded gaze. Without thinking twice, he bites down hard on his lips, his eyes never leaving Ian‘s and shifts to the side to reveal his whole body. “Looks like we got the same problem down there.“

He can see Ian's blown pupils wandering down from his eyes right to Mickey’s straining erection. His chest is heaving and Mickey guesses that he’s whether knowing what to do nor say. He just stands there with his flushed face as if rooted and stares at Mickey’s dick.

Again, the brunet finds it's pretty adoreable how Ian is all shy and unsure about this. Afraid Mickey might report him and he’s losing his job. But that’s the last thing the smaller one has in mind..

They both are hot for each other. So what? Mickey hasn’t gotten fucked for a while and this hot boy is definitely interested in his ass. What’s the problem in pushing his luck?!

“Would you please _not_ get Tamesha for me and instead finish what you've started here?“ he asks teasingly.

Ian's emerald green eyes shoot from Mickey's dick to his eyes, his mouth gaping open, he’s definitely a loss of words. “Huh?“

Mickey smirks self-conciously, getting even more riled up to be able to intimidate a hot guy like Ian, who definitely shouldn’t have a problem picking guys up. It makes him feel as if he‘s regained some kind of control over the situation again, that just seemed hopeless only moments ago. It makes him fidgety and playful and he’s determined to not budge from his plan until he got what he wants.

So he plops back down on his stomach, spreading his legs even more and bending them to the side, to give Ian a good view on his glory hole.

“What -“ Ian begins to stutter, Mickey hearing some shuffling behind his back, “What does it -“

“Jesus!“ he sighs, “It means, _get the fuck on me, Gallagher!_ “

Ian seems to need a good minute to process everything Mickey had just demanded – a minute where Mickey ponders to get thrown out and reported as a fucking perv – before he finally clicks to action and starts pouring warm oil all over Mickey’s crack. The brunet shudders from the sensation, biting hard on his lips to stop himself from moaning just from this.

That is until Ian starts fingering him and all his good resolutions go to shit. He lets out a drawn out moan that fills the whole room, when Ian’s index finger breaches him until its buried to the hilt. “ _Fuck,_ “ he whines, when his tip already finds his prostate. The redhead glides his finger in and out, always teasing his sweet spot, before he adds the second one and starts stretching him. It makes a slick sound the way his fingers rotate and push into him, the groans Mickey’s emitting adding to the wonderful noise he has missed for too long. He knows he needs to muffle his voice, since people on the outside shouldn’t know what’s happening in here. But with Ian’s fingers fucking his hole relentless, it’s almost impossible to control the sounds coming from deep inside him.

Shit, it’s such a fucking wonderful feeling how Ian’s warm oil covered fingers work so easily inside of him that his hips starting to react on their own. He pushes backwards, eager for more, the emerging friction lulling him into some sort of fucked up trance. He’s so high on endorphines that he hardly hears Ian cursing almost inaudible behind him, also too gone on the pleasure.

When he hears a soft shuffle behind him, Mickey turns his head to look around. He feels a rush of release pulsing through his dick, having a hard time to hold back his impeding orgasm, at the sight that’s presenting itself behind his back. Ian has pulled out his own dick, lubricated it with his oily hands and strokes himself lazily, while his dilated pupils are focused on his fingers fucking fervently Mickey’s ass and he’s panting hard with a flushed face. “ _Jesus Christ_ ,“ Mickey sighs, “You‘re really packin' nine inches, aren‘t you?!“

In an instant, Ian's eyes shoot up, the blush spreading over his neck. “Yeah,“ he smirks and it's the first time Mickey finds him self-concious and proud in this situation, “But I don't have to go all the way in if you don't wan-“

“ _What_?“ Mickey snaps from the overwhelming sight back to reality. “Fuck no,“ he protests, as if he’s giving up on the opportunity to have a dick like Ian‘s filling him up, when he’s completely at his senses, “I wanna have it all. Come on. Get in me, I'm ready.“

 _God,_ he sounds needy. But truth is, he _is_. He knows, that if Ian would deny himself now, Mickey would beg for his dick on his knees. He’s not giving up on that. But it seems, he’s lucky. Ian pulls his fingers out and Mickey whines at the loss of such wonderful pressure on his prostate, before he shuffles around and takes a condom out of his backpack. His mind is wandering to all the incredible things that are going to happen in a few moments, letting him only realize in a haze, how Ian undresses himself, climbs behind him on the bed to knee inside his frogged out thighs. He rolls the condom on his length, pours oil over Mickey's rim and his own cock, pulls Mickey’s hips a bit upwards before pressing the tip of his dick against his entrance. And holy shit, that alone sends a wave of pleasure through the smaller one‘s body.

When Ian doesn’t move, determind blue eyes lock with insecure green one, telling the redhead to get on with it. A quick nod from Ian and then he finally penetrates him, stretching him so fucking good and slow. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!“ The brunet bites hard on his lips to keep from screaming from this bittersweet ache, his head falling between his stretched out arms on the matress, his hands clasping the edge of the mattress firmly.

“Should I stop?“ the boy once again asks, unsure, stopping half the way inside.

But stopping is the last thing Mickey has in mind. He’s chasing his much-needed release since Ian first laid hands on him. So he’s quick on the trigger with his response. “No.“

And that seems to be the moment, when the transformation of the shy masseur to the relentless sex god Ian Gallagher, has to happen. The redhead bottoms out with one deep thrust, making Mickey almost black out from the overwhelming delight of being completely fucking full. “You hittin that spot right away, huh?“ he mutters through gritted teeth in the few seconds Ian gives him to adjust.

He expects a soft “Sorry“ as a response, but is surprised as Ian’s voice turns to a much rawer tone, “You like that, don’t you?“

A smirk spreads on his lips, pleasently taken aback by the answer, that’s definitely turning him on. “Yeah,“ he admits in a breath, “Fuck, yeah I do.“

And then Ian starts with the pounding and Mickey can only see stars. His hips work rough, while his hands are gentle. It’s the combination of sweet and hard, that’s driving Mickey fucking nuts. Not to mention that Ian’s nine inches are jabbing his prostate every goddamn time, while his cock is rubbing on the bed beneath him. “Holy shit! Oh fuck,“ Mickey stammers, “thats’s – that’s – fuck that’s good!“

“Yeah?“ the redhead asks, cocky. And even though Mickey’s face is buried deep inside the cushion of the mattress, he practically hears Ian smiling mischieviously, “You like my cock in you?“

“Feels – feels so good, _fuck_!“ he confesses desperately, barely able to get the words out since it all seem to happen through a blur. He doesn’t know what to focus on, he’s lost in the mix of wonderful feelings; like the overwhelming stretch of his hole; the burning of his skin, wherever Ian touches him with his warm and oily hands; the prickling inside his guts that increases with every rubbing of his dick against the cushion; the cocky and selfconfident sound of Ian’s voice, that’s somehow making him completely compliant to Ian; and the jolt of electricity that curses through his body with every hit of Ian’s dick on his prostate. He keens. Softly but desperately, not able to remember if he’s ever felt such a powerful pleasure in his life.

He knows it won’t take long. He can feel his reaching orgasm already in all his body parts. But god, he somehow wishes this moment would never end.

“You feel fucking good, too,“ Ian then mutters breathlessly, pressing Mickey down with all his weight, laying flat on top of him and starting to nibble on the crook of the brunet’s neck. “And I like how you smell.“

“Oh, shit!“ is Mickey’s instant reaction to this, while Ian’s rocking movements become even deeper and harder. Ian‘s lips against his damp skin, his hot breath fanning his face, makes everything so much more intense.

It doesn’t help Mickey’s attempts to hold out a bit longer when the redhead whispers filthy in his ear, “I wanted to wreck that ass the minute I saw you laying bare infront of me. _Jesus christ_. And it feels even better.“

Mickey isn’t able to react to this, the only sound coming from his mouth is a helpless whimper. _Holy fuck,_ when did Mr. Blushing Blush turned into hot-fucking-filthy-talking-sex-god?

Ian’s thrusts start to get more rougher and harder, but also more haphazardly. _Good_ , because Mickey can feel that it’s over for him in the next few seconds. The pointed jabs that Ian gives his prostate dead-on are too overwhelming to bear any longer. His dick already too sensitive for more friction. He can only hear his own sharp breaths starting to speed up, the knuckles on his hands turning white from the power of his tight hold and his hole beginning to clench, when Ian once again kisses his neck and mumbles into his ear, “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me. C’mon!“

And the fucker is right. That’s it. Mickey tries to muffle his voice, but he’s still coming with a loud yelp of Ian’s name and a few incoherent curses on a fucking massage bed. If he weren’t so gone on the pleasure that ripples through him, he probably would pretend that the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes are from the sweat that’s covering his whole body. But truth is, he doesn’t know if anything in his life ever felt that good and made him happy on a level Buddhists would probably describe as Nirvana. _Fuck!_

“Shit, so tight!“ he hears Ian moaning through the haze of his orgasm, feeling him speeding up even more. “I’m gonna – gonna,“ That’s when big, warm, oily hands grab Mickey’s on the edge of the bed, unclench them and enlaces their fingers, “Fuck Mickey, I’m gonna cum!“

Still feeling the waves of his own release rolling through his body, he enjoys the way Ian’s climax hit him. The tall man goes stiff on top of him; his hips pushing his cock as far as possible inside Mickey, hitting Mickey’s over sensitive spot once again; his face buried deep in the brunet’s neck, panting hard and desperate; before collapsing exhausted on top of him.

And that’s how they’re probably laying there for a few minutes. Both trying to calm down from their high, both struggling for air. Mickey having more of a problem with that. “Ey,“ he cuts through their pants, “If you don’t wanna drag a dead man outta your room, your lanky body has to get off me. I’m having a bit of an air-problem here.“

One last puff of Ian’s soft chuckle tickles the skin of his neck, before the masseur untangles their fingers and leans back. “Uh, sorry,“ he mumbles, and Mickey turns around to stare stunned at Ian. This little shit is blushing again! After all the pounding and dirty sex talk he just did, he now is back to sweet and shy. Goddamn it! Mickey has no idea what to do with it. He just hast he feeling he finds it kinda cute.

He isn’t able to wonder about it any longer, when Ian suddenly but carefully pulls out and Mickey winces at the loss. It felt so good to be full. He watches Ian leaning back on his heels and pulling off the condom, deciding that one quick glance at the beauty of Ian’s dick probably won’t do any harm but to help him jerk off later.

As soon as Ian hops off the bed and hands him a towel to clean himself, the atmosphere suddenly shifts back to awkward. Both share quick gazes, but look away the moment they get caught of the other. It’s a bit embarrasing. When Mickey makes some attempts to clean the mess he’s made on the bed, Ian speaks up. “It’s okay. I’m gonna clean this. I have to disinfect it anyways before every new client.“

He nods. The word _client_ leaves a bitter smack on Mickey’s tongue, but he decides not to give it too much thought. It’s more when Ian starts with “Uhm.. so,“ Mickey knows that their time together has probably come to an end, “75minutes are up.“

He raises his brows and tries to smile, “That was quick.“

Ian mirrors him, “Yeah, kinda.“

“I’m gonna-“ he points with his thumb behind his back to the direction of the curtain, turning around to get dressed.

Neither of them talk, which is probably for the better, because Mickey definitely never was much of a small talker. Still, even though he had an otherworldly orgasm only moments before, he feels kind of queasy. He can’t shake off this feeling and he doesn’t like it. So he decides, that it’s probably fort he better to quickly get out of here and get some air.

Fully dressed again, he steps out of the curtain and finds Ian also back in his tight working clothes. Goddamn it. This look has already burned into his memory. “I should get goin‘.“ he mumbles, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

“Yeah, okay,“ is all Ian is saying and Mickey feels himself aching for more. He just doesn’t allow his mind to take up on that feeling.

“Okay,“ he huffs and turns around, opening the door. Before he’s fully standing in the fancy corridor in front of Ian’s room, he takes one last glance at the man that stares after him, both hands fisted deep inside his pockets, “Thanks for –“ he hears himself saying, “You know. The massage and that.“

The redhead nods shyly, before Mickey finally walks away from something he somehow doesn’t want to let go..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think Mickey will come back for another massage?! ;)
> 
> I really have no idea what I did here. It sort of just happened while I was at home in sickness.
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or comments. They are highly appreciated <3
> 
> xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey doesn’t have a lot of problems. Most things don’t seem important enough for Mickey to _make_ them his problem. So most of the time, it’s either Mandy’s problem he has to deal with or some things at work. And those, he learned to smooth out very quickly. So _no._ Mickey couldn’t think of _one_ problem that put a lot of strain on him, like, _ever_. Until Wednesday, 5pm…

Since then, he’s had a bit of a problem. A concentration problem. He can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can’t work without thinking about a certain redhead with the best dick he’s ever had. So most of the time, when he can’t sleep, eat or work anyway, he’s jerking off in a hidden corner of wherever he is.

First, he thought that Ian had just awoken his libido again, and now he’s been making up for all the lost orgasm-time during the last few months. But _no_. Even Mickey, who was never known to think much about things and draw conclusions from it, understood after only a week that it’s not his aroused libido that leads to the increased sexual encounters he has with his right hand. It’s the jacking off material that drives him insane. In short: It’s Ian.

_Fuck!_

Not once in his entire life has Mickey thought that much about a specific person. Never. So it’s a completely new situation he finds himself in, and he has no idea how to stop the buzzing thoughts of big feet, pale skin, warm and oily hands, emerald green eyes, a shy grin, a freckled face, red hair and the fucking nine inches! _God, he’s so lost!_

He thought that talking to Mandy may be a good idea until it occurred to him-- talking to Mandy would probably be a _terrible_ idea. She would smile and grin and ask hundreds of fucking questions, which wouldn’t help with forgetting about Ian. She would probably tell him to go for it. Go back there and ask Ian out.

But who is he?! Mickey Milkovich doesn’t do dates. _Hell no!_ He wouldn’t know what to do. And he’d have to get through an evening full of boring small talk before they’d finally come to the part that Mickey aches for. He wants Ian to fuck him again. But he couldn’t just go there and ask for it, could he?!

He doesn’t even know if someone had heard them, leaving Ian to deal with the consequences now. Or if Ian regrets the whole thing. Which he probably does, since he’s the most shy, empathetic and sincere man Mickey has ever met. He probably feels guilty to his massage-aid, if masseurs have to swear on something like that, too. _Goddamn it!_

But when another week passes and even deluging himself with work doesn’t help, he knows he has to do something about it. He gets grumpy and nerved out all over again; the tension Ian reduced is back to full force. But now Ian’s the reason for his mental stress.

He doesn’t know what exactly it is that Ian has on him that besets Mickey even in his sleep. He only knows he wants those warm and oily hands back on him. The dick up his ass would be just the bonus. And what big and fat bonus!

So after the second week, Mickey finds himself standing in the fancy ass-white beauty salon again (Wednesday at 5pm, since it’s the only time he knows for sure that Ian’s working), shaking his head at himself in disbelief.

But there’s no other way. After weeks of trying to get rid of the recurring thoughts, he now has to face the only real problem he’s ever had: _Ian fucking Gallagher!_

“Hello Sir, how can I help you today?“ the friendly-ass secretary greets him with a smile.

“Uhm.. hi,“ he steps closer to the counter, “I want another Ayu-whatever massage.“

“Ayurveda?“ she knits her brows.

“Yeah. From the redhead,“ he stammers, “You know. Tall, pale skin, fucking alien looking.“

“From Mr. Gallagher?“

“Yeah. He here?“

“Yeah,“ the blonde woman answers, an irritated smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “but he has an appointment right now, I'm sorry. But you can go to -“

“ _No,“_ he cuts her off immediately. He won’t go to fucking Tamesha! “It’s okay, I'm waiting.“

He’s already on his heels to turn around and head to the waiting room when she clears her throat again. “Well, I don’t know if that’ll help. Ian has his last client now; he hasn’t signed any more appointments for today.“

Determined not to let go of his plan, he tries to give her his sweetest fake smile. “Leaves more room for me, eh?“

He then plops down on the pink pastel couch, takes a magazine and scrolls through it while he hopes time goes by. He pretends not to feel the anger bubbling up in him, everytime he hears faint yelps of pain (or pleasure?) coming from Ian’s room. He just doesn’t…

But under these circumstances, the 75 minutes that seemed to fly by the last time he was here, today feel like hours. It’s definitely a man inside Ian’s room and his screams somehow got quieter and less painful. Mickey doesn’t like it. And he especially doesn’t like that it’s bothering him what’s going on inside the room. It’s none of his fucking business how many clients the redhead is fucking in there.

_None._

That’s why Mickey rubs his wet palms on his dark jeans and gets up. He’s done. He hates to what Ian and his massage have turned him into. He wants to be back to the old Mickey, getting fucked by some drunk twinks in dark alleys in Boystown. Not giving a shit about feelings or thoughts and just focus on work to be as good at his job as he was two weeks ago.

In the corner of his eyes, he can see the blonde secretary eyeing him suspiciously, probably relieved that he resigned and no discussions are further needed. With his plan in mind to drive straight to Boystown, he nods hesitantly to her and makes his way to the entrance.

But that’s exactly the moment when his biggest problem decides to exit the room and comes to stand in front of the front desk, his tall and built blonde client smiling confidently next to him.

Mickey knows it’s probably best to leave. Get out of here, before the redhead catches sight of him. However, it just doesn’t seem possible for the brunet to move. His eyes are stuck on Ian, his breath sticking in his throat. Fuck this fucking beauty salon for forcing their employees to wear such tight uniforms. _Gah!_

“Thank you, Ian! I feel so much better now,“ fucking blonde Ken-double beams at him and Mickey’s gaydar fires off an alarm. Before Ian can take the hand that this Barbie fake shit offers him, Mickey clears his throat and gets their attention.

In an instant, the world stops spinning. Mickey swears, Ian’s forgot to exhale just like he does and the redhead freezes in his movements, staring completely dumbfounded back at him. It feels like forever, before the brunet sees Ian swallowing hard, muttering his name under his breath, “ _Mickey_.“

“Gallagher.“

Somewhere in that haze, Ken brat makes his way over to him to exit the salon, leaving a still staring Ian, Mickey _and_ the secretary behind.

“Uhm, Ian?“ the blonde woman tears them both out of their intense gaze, “Mr. Milkovich came to get another Ayurveda massage from you. I told him, that Mr. Wallis was your last client for today, but he –“

“It’s okay, Susan,“ Ian cuts her off, his eyes wandering back to Mickey. And in that moment, the smaller one could swear he caught sight of an excited sparkle behind those emerald greens. “I can do one more. You don‘t have to stay here and wait, though. Finish the payoffs and go home. I’ll lock up when I’m done.“

Relief spreads through Mickey’s whole body. He can’t hold back the smile that’s blooming on his face. He glances at Susan, who quickly nods her agreement and back to Ian, who’s still staring at him. “Mickey,“ he then calls for him to follow to his room, the brunet right on his heels.

When Ian closes the door behind them, they both share a moment where neither of them speaks and they just stare at each other at ease.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again“ Ian mumbles into the silence.

“Well, you know,“ the smaller one starts with a shrug, “You still owe me the front massage.“ Trying not to be ashamed of his unveiled prompt, he locks their gaze determindly. To his relief, Ian chuckles and blushes, turning in the same shade of red that Mickey couldn’t get out of his head for two long weeks. And he finds himself enjoying both, the sound and the visual.

With a shy smile on his lips, the redhead drops his head and rubs the back of his neck. And _god,_ does it do things to Mickey when those big puppy eyes search for his again, Ian nodding in agreement. “Alright,“ he huffs, clapping his hands, “then please take your clothes -“

Biting his lower lip teasingly, a mischievous sparkle behind his blue eyes, Mickey starts undressing himself right in front of Ian. Even before the latter one could finish his sentence about getting naked behind the curtain. But why take the detour back to the selection, when it's much hotter to see Ian struggle for breath with each button Mickey's undoing on his chest? This is definitely more fun.

His eyes burning holes into Ian’s flushed face, his teeth still nibbling on his lower lip, he feels his chest heaving in excitement when he peels the fabric off his shoulders. Ian’s eyes locked on his naked upper body, he throws the shirt on the floor, starting with the button of his jean. Green eyes follow immediately. “Like what you see, Gallagher?“

Mickey finds the tall man breathing even heavier through his nostrils than before, only tearing his eyes off of Mickey’s chest hesitantly to look him in the eyes when the brunet emits a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,“ Ian tells him, while Mickey strips out of his shoes, socks and pants, leaving him only in his boxer briefs.

“Good,“ the smaller man smiles, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and dropping it to the floor to reveal his semi-erection, “‘cause I like what I see, too.“ He then nods to Ian’s covered crotch, that leaves no room for doubt that the redhead is already hard.

Ian once again follows his gaze, a new rush of red blooming on his cheeks. His embarrassment makes Mickey huff a laugh even more, before he plops down on the bed. Only this time he’s facing the ceiling, not the floor.

Definitely happy about his decision to come back again, he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that Ian can see his dick twitching in anticipation. It’s what they both want. And it’s what they both knew.

This time, he watches Ian making his way to the counter to grab some oils and pouring it inside his palms. Mickey licks his lips in anticipation, knowing they would fulfill him in so many ways in a few moments. When Ian steps up to his side, Mickey closes his eyes with a grin on his lips, wanting to enjoy the first contact undisturbed.

And so it happens that Ian fucking Gallagher lays his warm, soft, oily and talented hands on him again. He smooths his palms across his chest, rubbing and massaging the front of Mickey’s muscles and nipples, releasing thousands of endorphins in his body. He is flooded with an immense pleasure, not even embarrassed a tiny little bit, that he’s getting rock hard within the first few touches. He can hear and feel Ian panting as aroused as he himself is.

“Susan or Tamesha still here?“ Mickey whispers breathlessly.

His eyes fly open to watch Ian shaking his head. “Guess not, no. Heard the door before.“

Mickey nods quickly and then gives his pleasure free rein, Ian joining him unabashed. This time neither he nor the redhead hold back the moans, while Ian’s hands roam over Mickey’s skin. From the top, to the middle and a bit further down, where he remains and travels his fingers around Mickey’s leaking dick. It's pretty much the best foreplay he‘s ever had.

Torn between squeezing his eyes shut and watching Ian please him, the brunet looks down on his neglected, twitching, thick, red dick and sees a drop of precum rolling from his tip down his length. He moans, wants to beg Ian to touch him, but before he knows what's happening, his masseur‘s tongue is there to catch it on the way to his belly. “ _Fuuuuck_!“ he sighs desperately, hoping that Ian would now set an end to his misery. But _no._ His beautiful lips are gone as fast as they were there to catch the drop, his hands ignoring his cock again, rubbing his strong thighs. “Ian, _please!“_

“Ian, please, _what?“_ The redhead asks him mockingly, one red brow raised to his forehead. _There he_ _is_. Cocky motherfucker, sex-god, Ian Gallagher!

“Just-“ he can’t even form a sentence in the desperate situation Ian put him into. He squints his eyes, trying to focus on coherent words as a hot mouth engulfs his length. “Jesus Christ!“

“You want that?“

“Yeah, yeah,“ he pants eagerly, waiting for Ian’s pretty lips to continue, “that!“

With a soft chuckle, Ian is spreading his thighs and shifting into a new position. Without opening his eyes, he can tell from Ian’s sharp intake of breath, that he wandered a little bit down his body. He only feels hot breath fanning over his balls, before a nose is there to nudge his rock hard dick while soft lips kiss its way from Mickey’s tight sack upwards to the tip of his dick. He’s glad no one is there anymore, otherwise they’d hear his desperate cries for more.

Without hands touching him, Ian pokes his tongue out, the tip darting across his slit rapidly. Back and forth, right and left. It’s driving Mickey fucking insane!

He feels boneless under Ian’s touch. Powerless to beg or do anything other than whimpering in frustration about Ian’s teasings. And the redhead won’t stop. He lets Mickey‘s dick plop back onto his stomach, the tip of his tongue licking pointed his pulsing way up until he’s tasting the pool of precum on his belly.

Mickey doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He only knows he could cum just from that. Just from that fucker teasing him without doing much. His chest is raising and falling vigorously, without air filling his lungs properly. He may be close to blacking out. _Fucking finally,_ there are fingers that guide his dick back up. “ _Ian,“_ he whines, before the redhead swallows him down. And not only sucking his head in for a bit. _No._ Ian goes from zero to one hundred, absorbing Mickey’s full length until it’s hitting the back of his throat. And he’s not even gagging.

He’s taking it like a pro, sucking Mickey off and making him a panting and trembling mess. First, his hands clench around the sides of the bed again, until he remembers that he has Ian Gallagher between his thighs, and nothing would feel as good as stroking through that red hair or grabbing it roughly. So that’s what he does.

While Ian’s head bobs up and down, swallowing around his girth every third time his dick hits his throat, Mickey’s fingers run through soft red strains, following his movements. “Holy shit, this is good!“ he whispers a praise, feeling his orgasm approaching faster than he’d like it to.

When Ian returns to the teasing of his slit and the prickling inside the brunet’s guts gets heavier, he pulls hard on the hair around his fingers. “Ian, stop. S _top. Please.“_

In an instant Mickey’s dick plops out of Ian’s mouth and the redhead stares at him with wide eyes, his breath ragged and aroused.

“Get out of your fucking clothes, c’mon!“ Mickey demands and props up on his elbow to watch Ian following his instructions. The man is fast. He’s naked in an instant and Mickey can’t keep his eyes from wandering from Ian’s toned ab’s down to the glory of his cock. “ _God!“_ he sighs, when he sees Ian is throbbing just like him. “C'mere.“

The brunet reaches for Ian, who follows suit and comes to a stand beside Mickey‘s head, his wet length right on Mickey's eye level. Without thinking twice, Mickey reaches for it, stroking him a few times, leading his tip to his eager mouth. Sighing in relief, Ian stumbles another step forward to position himself better and lets his head fall in his neck, with Mickey swiping his tongue over his salty slit. “ _Fuck_ , Mick!“ he curses as the brunet laps constantly around his head, teasing him just the way he was teased before.

Mickey tries to ignore the fact that Ian using a nickname for him sent a new jolt of pleasure through his system. He just focused on how just the tip of Ian feels in his mouth, tastes on his tongue, and it’s fucking overwhelming! His head is moving hot and heavy over his tongue, spreading his very own taste in Mickey’s oral cave. _God,_ iIt's what Mickey has missed for months. Only that this is like nine-inches better than any other cock he‘s ever had deep down his throat.

 He closes his eyes, eagerly engulfing Ian's whole head for the first time and letting his tongue swivel around his length. He doesn't miss the way Ian gasps for air, cursing almost inaudibly during the whole process of Mickey going down until Ian's cock hits the back of his throat. “Holy shit, Mickey!“ Ian yelps, while the brunet tries to relax and suppress his gag reflex, swallowing around him to give Ian all the chills.

He feels the prickling of tears in the corner of his eyes and can't remember a time he felt better while sucking someone's cock. His fingernails dig deep into the flesh of Ian's asscheeks, leaving half-moon marks for sure. He then pulls back as far as his laying position allows him, Ian helping in the process and guiding his dick out, before going back in and moaning as silently as possible almost constantly. Fuck it's so fucking good..

With his eyes closed, Mickey doesn't realize Ian is bending to grab another oil from the counter beside him. He only recognizes a warm and oily hand engulfing his dick shortly after, his hips jerking at the touch. Mickey groans around Ian's girth, sending vibrations through the dick in his mouth.

Just at the right moment the smaller one‘s eyes fly open, catching the wonderful sight of his completely broken masseur. Ian's brows are furrowed, his pupils blown and focused on his jerking hand on Mickey’s dick. His cheeks are red, lips parted, and he's panting as if Mickey is sucking the air from his lungs through his dick. He has to pull off for a moment, to catch his own breath, while Ian's slick fingers keep tugging at him. “Fuck, man!“ he huffs, before the redhead's wrist twists and a shock of electricity rolls through him.

“That good?“ Ian asks filthily.

“Yeah..“ the brunet gasps, reaching for Ian's cock again, “Keep - keep doing that.“

But with a swift motion of his hips, Ian's cock wanders in the opposite direction of where Mickey wants it. “You want it bad, _huh_?“ Ian teases him in a cocky tone, denying him what Mickey yearned in his dreams since the first day he‘d met the redhead. “You wanna cum with my dick down your throat, don't you?“

 _Fuck_! How is it possible for Ian to be all shy and coy when they just talk, and then be that filthy beast in bed? And why the hell does this turn Mickey even the fuck more on?

So yeah. Ian is right. He wants it. He wants it deep down his throat while Ian strokes him to orgasm with that soft, oily hand of his.

“Yeah,“ he mutters brokenly, fishing for Ian's hips and pulling him forward again, nails digging into his ass, “give it to me.“

A soft chuckle spills from his masseur‘s lips, as the other hand of the redhead wanders to his own dick, guiding the tip around the brunet's parted lips, making them wet and slick. He can already taste that salty precome of the other man again and it's making him all dizzy. Instantly his tongue pokes out and licks over Ian's slit, making the tall man tremble. He hears a whispered “Holy fuck!“ before Ian presses his whole length beneath his lips.

The rest all happens in a blur. When Mickey opens his mouth wide, Ian shoves it all in, all the way down where Mickey wants it. Just to keep Mickey distracted from how roughly he's fucking his mouth, Ian speeds the movement of his hand around Mickey's cock up. The warm and slick feeling spreading the wave of pleasure in his whole body.

The brunet doesn't know how long he can hold his climax at bay, the feeling more than overwhelming on his gut and in his mouth. The heaviness of Ian's huge dick on his tongue, the tip hitting the back of his throat repeatedly, the thick vein pulsating in his mouth, his spit dribbling down his chin; god, Mickey never wants to let go.

His moans get louder, heavier; his lust becomes wilder and more insatiable. The closer he gets to the edge, the more desperate he sucks and swallows on and around Ian's cock.

The redhead also doesn't seem to have any more control over his body as he rams his dick deep down Mickey's throat in a brutal pace, while his jerks become more haphazard. “Cum,“ he demands, his voice low, “cum for me now Mick, c'mon!“

As if Mickey is his little bitch, he feels his body following suit. He can't do anything against it – bossy Ian seems to make his knees go weak, bringing his balls to burst. He takes one last deep breath around Ian's dick, a few whimpers escaping within the process, before he squeezes his eyes shut and his body starts to spasm. He feels hot ribbons of cum spurting out of him and onto Ian's fist, that doesn't go easier on him during his high. He keeps stroking him fervently through his orgasm, mumbling broken curses all throughout.

With a loud groan the brunet opens his eyes again, catching a panting and desperate looking Ian, whose eyes are fixated on the load Mickey is giving him. He then tightens the suction around Ian's girth again and takes him deep down, still trembling and shuddering under Ian’s touch. “Fuck, I'm gonna -“ is all his masseur gets out before he bites down on his bottom lip and stops his tugs on Mickey's dick, holding him still in his slick fist, “Jesus Christ, oh _fuck Mick!_ “

And that's it. Without pulling back, Mickey takes it, swallowing every drop Ian shoots down his throat, sucking tightly to get everything out of the man he can’t get off his mind. “Shit. Fuck. Holy _fuck_!“ Ian curses, his tone close to a desperate cry. Mickey definitely likes the sound of it, not stopping his instructions until Ian is jerking and begging him to let go.

Mickey licks all the way up, and let Ian’s dick fall out of his mouth, his back crashing on the bed completely exhausted. Out of breath they stare at each other, panting side by side while trying to regain control of their bodies again.

And then, after a few galloping heartbeats in his chest, the absurdity of the situation hits Mickey, causing him to erupt in laughter. He clasps his upper arm over his eyes, almost as if he's embarrassed by the things they've done together. He just giggles, and probably blushes out of relief, that Ian didn’t abuse him as a perv and sent him home the minute he saw him.

And before he puts his arm back down to face the situation and Ian again, he also hears the redhead beginning to chuckle. “You know, you can also buy a number pad.“ Ian says with a shrug and a full grin on his freckled, flushed face, “It‘s cheaper than to pay for every massage extra.“

“I have to pay for your ass?“ Mickey asks, wanting it to sound like a joke. But the moment it slipped, he thought about the way it probably sounded. As if he’s paying Ian for sex. As if Ian is his private prostitute. And that’s definitely _not_ what Mickey wants Ian to be. Even though he has no idea about what he wants from this cute and hot redhead, he just knows he doesn’t want him to feel used.

But it seems, Ian didn’t mind. He just shrugs nonchalantly and gives himself more cocky in this conversation, than Mickey has ever remembered him before. “I mean, I work 75 minutes with full physical effort, as with any other massage. The orgasm is just my private bonus for you.“

Mickey raises his brows and clicks his tongue playfully, “And what’s with the physical effort _I_ put into and _your_ orgasm, huh?“ he asks him challenging, “I mean, my throat’s sore now. Shouldn’t that reduce the price at least by half?“

“ _Huh_ ,“ Ian pretends to ponder about his words, picking up all the clothes from the floor and throwing Mickey’s to him, before sliding his legs into his own white tight pants, “Getting me all in and fully down your throat without gagging really was remarkable. I have to give you that.“ Mickey shakes his head chuckling, dressing himself back up and wondering when cute and shy Ian decided to let his facade drop with him. “So yeah, okay. You only have to pay half the price.“

“What if I pay for a beer and a burger instead?“

Silence. Both stop moving.

 _What the hell was that?_ Mickey chides himself inwardly, not knowing when he stopped thinking about his words before he lets this bomb drop. Did he just really ask Ian out? On a date? A date he’s never done in his entire life before? A date, he has absolutely no idea how works and if Ian is even interested in?

Does he, Mickey Milkovich, really wants to go out with someone he’s fucked twice and gets to know him? Do a whole evening full of small talk and lame jokes only to get fucked again?

 _Fuck yes,_ he wants it. Amazingly, he wants it all. _With Ian._ Without seeing the fucking part as the main event.

 _Christ,_ when did he turned into such a pussy?

But Ian still hasn’t answered yet. The redhead just stopped dead in the tracks while putting his white t-shirt on, that now still stucks above his wonderful pink nipples. He just stares at him, his mouth half gaping open.

And when Mickey finds the courage to move and look him in the eyes as well, he finds Ian blushing. Because, _thank god,_ he still seems to be the cute little fucker Mickey can’t get out of his head. And that’s the problem here – with one little question, he made himself vulnerable for Ian. He put himself into a inferior position, and this time not for sex. That’s new.

So while hours, minutes or maybe seconds fly by, he has the feeling someone has his heart in a tight grip, squeezing it heavier with every tickling of the clock. _Fuck!_

But then, _finally,_ Ian pushes his shirt all the way down and shrugs nonchalantly again. “I’m more the pizza type, you know?!“

Mickey lets out a laugh of relief, finding the red asshole joining him. “Of course you are!“ he huffs, still not one hundred percent sure if that’s a yes. He decides to go for it. “So?“

Bravely, Ian makes a move towards him, reducing their distance to only one step. “So,“ he starts, looking down to Mickey, whose knees are slightly trembling by now, “you know a good pizza place?“

Clicking his tongue mocking, he locks their gaze. “Sizzler‘s good enough for your ass?“

Across Ian’s beautiful face spreads the shit eating grin that already has burned into Mickey’s mind. “Sizzler’s is perfect.“ He says, leaning down to kiss the brunet on the cheek, leaving him dumbfounded and breathless. Before Mickey can react, Ian turns around and starts cleaning up the room. “Friday, 7pm.“ the redhead speaks over his shoulder, not bothering to stop his actions.

“Alright,“ Mickey answers, gathering his last few things and already steps up to the door to leave Ian to it, “I’ll be ready.“

“Yeah. Me, too, Mick!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if it's settled with 2/2, it's not the end. There will be more, if you like ;)
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or comments, I highly appreciate them <3
> 
> xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my wonderful beta: Feel loved, hugged and supported <3

“So…“ the annoying voice of his sister starts again as he buttons up his dark shirt in front of a mirror, sighing in desperation, “Tell me if I’m getting this right. I wanted to hook you up with someone since like _forever,_ and you wouldn’t let me, because you were too busy building fancy ass hospitals. Then I got you a voucher for a massage _,_ and it turns out that you _hooked up with your masseur?!_ What the fuck, Mickey?!“ To emphasize her last sentence, she throws some punches against his shoulders.

“ _OUCH!_ What the fuck is your problem, bitch?“

“My _problem_ is, that you bitched about this voucher for a few days. _Constantly._ And then, when I asked you how shit was afterwards, you guilty talked me, saying it was the most embarrassing situation of your life, when truth is that it was one of the best lays you ever had!“ Fuming, she gives him another punch, completely messing with his last button on his shirt.

Covering his surprise by annoyance, he glares at her. “How would _you_ know that it was the best lay I’ve ever had, huh? I hadn’t told you a thing about it.“

His sister just snorts, crossing her arms in front of her chest, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You forget that I live with you, _dear brother.“_ He rolls his eyes at her, concentrating back on more important things than his sister’s boring speech. Like the crease that stretches sidelong his shirt. _Fuck._ “And I never saw you fidgeting like this before, just for – how did you call it?“ she makes a dramatic pause, “Oh yeah, _hanging out with a friend,_ when sad truth is, YOU DON’T HAVE FRIENDS, MICKEY!“

He furiously unbuttons his shirt again to throw it onto the pile of clothes that already gather on the floor. “So what? I have _one_ now. Like- what do you call this shit?“ he searches for the right word, mildly gesticulating with his hand in front of his chest, “Like a friend with benefits, or some shit.“

The slim brunet woman raises one brow at him. “You met your so called _friends with benefits_ in dark alleys in Boystown. _This_ -“ now she’s making a excessive gesture along his body and onto the clothes pile, “This, asswipe, is called a _date.“_

“Pfft..!“ he again just rolls his eyes at her, slipping up by not denying it. What a rookie mistake!

Mandy starts giggling excited, clapping her hands triumphantly. “Oh my god, Mickey! You have a  _date_!“

“I don’t!“

“You do!“ she drools over it, “You do, you do, you do! Stop denying it, you pussy!“

With a new blue shirt thrown over his shoulders, Mickey stares back at his reflection disapprovingly. Maybe it’s his hair..

She throws another punch.

“ _OW!_ MANDY! Stop hitting me, bitch.“

 “You didn’t tell me! Two weeks. Why didn’t you tell me?“ Within this question, her voice gets thinner. A telltale sign that she’s truly hurt. And that’s one of the few things Mickey can’t bear.

He stops buttoning his shirt midway and just stares blankly at his own reflection. “I couldn’t okay?“ She remains silent, enough indication for him to go on, “It.. it was hard enough not to think about him 24/7. I knew you would go all crazy about it. Throwing around the big, fat _L_ -word. I wasn’t ready, alright?“

She steps up beside him, squeezing his bicep and leaning her head on his shoulder. “And now you are? Ready, I mean?“

He sighs. “I.. I don’t know, Mands. Doesn’t look like it, right?“ He opens his arms, nodding in the direction of his half-clothed body reflecting in the mirror.

“Will you stop it?” she asks him in disbelief as he shrugs out of this shirt again, “You look good, Mickey. What the hell are you so nervous about, anyway?“ He gets another one from his closet. There aren’t many left in there, though, “As I got it, you and – what’s his name?“

“Ian.“

“Irish, huh? You always had a thing for the very pale’s. Redhead, too?“

“Fuck off!“

“Anyways,“ she shrugs and plops down on his bed that is covered with different jeans, “As I got it, you and _Ian_ have already seen each other's dicks and probably licked each other's assholes.” She then shudders at that thought.

“Yeah, but this time it's different,” the brunet responds as he stares back at his reflection. By now he wears the third pair of jeans, this time a washed out black colour, that he'd spent half of that week's paycheck on, and a royal blue button-down shirt. “Before, we were just getting each other off in the heat of his massage room.”

“ _Ew!“_ Mandy throws in. “Remind me to never go to this beauty salon again.“

“But now.. now we have to actually talk to each other. Get to know each other.“ He starts fumbling his hands through his jet black hair.

Grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest, his sister speaks up again, “But that’s what you both agreed on, when you decided to go on a date.“

“Yeah. But-“ he stops in his actions and let his arms drop heavy to his side.

“But now you’re having doubts if you really want that?“

“Doubts?” he asks, frowning, turning to her, “Fuck no, I don’t have doubts about this. I-“ He hangs his head to wipe the some fuzz from his shirt, “I just don't wanna fuck it up.”

His sister jumps out of the bed again, coming to a stand behind him and turning him back to face himself in the mirror. “You won’t.“ she says softly, “Just look at you, Mick. Looking all fine and fancy. There’s a reason why Ian agreed to go on a date with you. He wants to get to know you, too. And he’s probably just as nervous as you are.“

Mickey let his sister’s words sink in, unusually thankful for her presence during his emotional break down. “Fancy, eh?“ Mickey instantly starts removing his shirt and grabs the last one from the floor again. “So you also think that the dark gray one was better, right?“

“ _Jesus_ ,“ his sister sighs in frustration, throwing her hands up in surrender, “I won’t do this with you again! No one can give me the last hour and a half back. NO ONE!“ she yells on her way to the door, “Just fucking go already, Mick. Or do you want him to think you’ve abandoned him, just because you can’t get that stick outta your ass?!“

“Alright, get the fuck out!” he screams after her, even though his sister had already slammed the door to her room shut. Mickey heaves a deep sigh before looking back at his reflection and nodding, halfway content. After finally deciding to settle on the dark gray shirt and the washed out black jeans, he makes his way to the kitchen to pour himself a good shot of his best whiskey. Giving himself five minutes to let the liquor work on his stressed out nerves, he grabs his coat and walks out of the door.

 

 

So here he is. A few nights later, after their last encounter in Ian’s massage room, the redhead stands there in front of the entrance to Sizzler‘s, his hands tucked deep inside his pockets, looking fine as shit. Mickey pauses on the other side of the street, hidden behind a bus station, just to be able to watch him for some more heartbeats, while he takes a few deep inhales from the rest of his cigarette. He thought he was blessed before to have seen Ian in his tight, white uniform... well, he didn’t know any better, because he had never seen Ian in his street clothes. Or date clothes? Fuck, he doesn’t know. He only knows that those tight blue jeans on his hips and this grey v-neck t-shirt enwrap his trained body just perfectly.

When Ian starts tapping nervously from one foot to the other, looking from right to left, Mandy’s words about abandoning Ian come back to his mind. He doesn’t want Ian to feel uncomfortable for even a second on their date. So he throws the cigarette butt away, steps out of the shadows, and walks straight to the man waiting for him. When Ian sees him, his whole face splits into a smile. “Hey.“

“Hey,“ Mickey responds, coming to a stop in front of the redhead. He has no idea what to do further, so he hopes Ian would lead the way.

“You look good.“

Mickey can’t help a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “You, too.“

“Wanna go inside?“ The ginger nods in the direction of the restaurant and this time Mickey naps his agreement.

“That’s why we’re here, right?“

Ian looks at him sceptically, before cracking a smile and turning around to walk inside. God, this is so embarrassing. Having no idea what to say or do, he just follows Ian to a hidden booth in the corner of the dimly lit room. They both discard their coats on the back of their seats and plop down opposite of each other, taking a minute to just sit, stare, and let the awkwardness fade away.

Luckily, a waitress is there quickly to take their orders, before letting them alone again in silence. Mickey feels his palms getting wet, rubbing them against each other on the table, Ian watching him.

_Shit_. He must look like a nervous teenager who’s having his first date, getting all riled up while Ian seems to be surprisingly calm and happy. He feels exposed under his gaze, and just needs to break the silence. “So..“ he begins to stammer, not quite sure what to settle for.

“So?“ Ian challenges him with his big toothy grin on his fucking beautiful freckled face.

_Fuck._ If he doesn’t get his shit together right now, this wasn‘t only his first date, but also his last. _He_ asked Ian out. So _he_ had to be prepared for this. But _he_ wasn’t. He can’t think of a single small talk thing he wants to ask Ian about. In truth, there’s only one thing Mickey desperately wants to know since their first fuck. And since he can’t come up with a better idea, he goes straight forward. “You’ve done this before?“

Ian’s smile grows even bigger, his brows raising up. “What? Going out on a date?“ he huffs a laugh, “Yeah, one or two times.“ The way he blinks at Mickey makes the brunet‘s stomach churn. Ian has been on a lot of dates, it seems. That stings. Even though Mickey knows it doesn’t have anything to do with him.

But that wasn’t exactly what Mickey was referring to, anyways. “Going out with clients, I mean.“ Actually he means _fucking_ them. But he couldn’t ask that five minutes into their date, could he?!

“Oh...“ Ian smiles blushing, “ _That_.“

Mickey stares at him with wide eyes, his nervousness creeping up on him even more. Now _his_ brows are climbing up his forehead as he gives Ian a nod that he’s still waiting for him to go on.

“Well, I was. One time.“ Mickey’s heart drops, “But actually it was the other way around. We met at a bar and hooked up. And a few days later, he was standing in the corridor of our studio.“ Ian let a pregnant pause follow, “With his wife.“

“Oh.“

“Yeah. _Oh.“_ The redhead shakes his head amused at the memory, “Douchebag gifted her with a voucher to their tenth anniversary. An Ayurveda massage for both of them. Idiot didn’t check our homepage before. It was pretty awkward.“

Mickey has to smirk, happy that the waitress brings their two beers and he‘s finally able to take a gulp to calm his nerves. He isn’t very happy to hear Ian talk about his hookups, but he can handle this kind of a story. And also.. Isn’t that what dates are for? Getting to know each other and find out about the past? Good things, bad things, and all that shit. That’s what he’s signed up for tonight. Or maybe even more...

“So you’re having awkward moments very often in that massage room of yours, huh?“ He can’t help himself. He desperately needs to know if there were other’s. Or if he’s something… _special._

Goddamn! He chides himself inwardly for thinking such stupid, faggy shit!

“Not that kind of awkward, no.“ Ian grins at him and himself takes a sip from his beer.

The brunet pushes further, “What kind of awkward then?“

The way Ian nibbles with his teeth on the side of his bottom lip and looks nervously at him, doesn’t let him think that he truly wants to know. But he’d asked. He won’t back down just because of his f _eelings._ “Well,“ the redhead starts, taking another sip of his drink, before placing it in front of him and starts playing with the label, “There were two or three men, who also got hard during the message.“

Mickey fights the lump in his throat, trying to play it cool by letting out a dry laugh, “So what’s the difference to me, then? Seems like to be the same _awkward_ then _.“_

Without looking into Mickey’s blue eyes, the redhead shakes his head with a shy smile on his lips. “No,“ he lets out, “You’re different.“

“Why?“

“Because _I_ didn’t get hard,“ the redhead stammers, his cheeks glowing, “Contrary to how it was with you.“ The last sentence was barely a whisper and Mickey had to listen carefully to get Ian’s point.

Neither of them knowing what to add to that, they both take a big gulp from their beer. A little more self-confident than before, and with his eyes fixed on Mickey again, Ian continues, “Well it was awkward for _them,_ but I shrugged it off as a normal reaction and tried to keep cool. One left immediately, though.“

Mickey can’t help the flush that appears on his face with Ian’s commitment. He chuckles at his story and before another silence can settle over them, he feels the urge to get to know him even more. “So why massages? Why Ayurveda? How come?“

A hopeful flicker shows up behind those emerald green eyes, as he smiles fondly at him. “You want the long story or the short? The brutal truth or the bare lie?“

Mickey huffs. “Well.. you made me pretty curious about the bare lie.“

“I wanted to do something good for the people.“

A laugh promptly escapes Mickey’s mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. A fat grin spread across his lips, brought about by the dork sitting in front of him. “So the brutal truth, then.“

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. That’s usually a story I save for the third date.“

“So I’m something special then, huh?“

“Yeah Mick, “ Ian murmurs into his beer, “you are.“ He swallows the gulp and puts the bottle down, pushing it back and forth, before he finds the courage to speak up. “I joined the army when I was sixteen. Stole my brother’s ID and left for West Point. Thought that was a good idea to avoid annoying school stuff and get out of something I had going on with my former boss. Besides, I already loved my ROTC training. And for a few months, I felt fucking good and alive, had so many ideas, wishes and visions for my life.“ He lets a pregnant pause follow his words and Mickey is only able to guess that what‘s following is going to be the _brutal_ part. Ian searches his pupils and locks their gaze. “Until I didn’t.“

“My actions became crazier, even though I didn’t realize them as abnormal. Last thing I know is that I stole a helicopter and became a wanted criminal of at least two charges: attempted theft of government property, and impersonating my older brother.“

Mickey swallows, listening carefully as Ian continues with his speech. “Only reason I wasn‘t charged and arrested is that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The same type as my mother had. She had lost her life from a drug overdose in a similar manic episode.“

“So bipolar is the shit with high high’s and low low’s, right?“ Mickey interrupts him. He’s heard of that from some crazy bitch from his neighborhood, who was also diagnosed with it.

A flash of amazement spreads across Ian's pretty face, almost as if he‘d reckoned with punishing silence instead of a normal conversation. But who is Mickey to judge him with the past he carries on his shoulders? Also, Ian seems as if he‘s already a good handle on that shit. The redhead nods slightly, “Yeah, over and over again.“ He glances intensely at Mickey, as if he’s waiting for a freak out, that doesn’t come.

When the brunet just nods his understanding, Ian continues, “My siblings were very worried about me, acting like they were my nurses and babysitters. 'Did you already take your pills, _Ian_?' 'Did you eat enough, _Ian_?' 'Don't drink more than one beer, _Ian_.'“ the redhead mocks, sighing frustrated at the memory of that past. “It made me sick. I just wanted to get out and live my life. Prove to myself, that I can take care of my own.“

 Again, Mickey just nods, totally understanding Ian for his feelings.

 “So I took off. Packed my backpack and left town. Took a crazy trip to India. Cause that's where all people go to find their true self and inner balance, right?!“

Actually, Mickey has no idea about that shit. The last two times he wanted to find his inner balance, he went to Ian and let the redhead pound him good and hard until he’s found his true self again. But to keep the conversation going and Ian opening up, he snorts approvingly.

 “Was there for more than a year. Talked to poor and religious people, traveled around, meditated a lot, took Ayurveda massages, learned to _be_ me and to live _with_ me, _and_ -“ Ian lets a dramatic pause follow in which he searches Mickey's eyes, “Took my meds.“

 Without knowing a lot about Ian or this fucking disease, Mickey was proud of the man in front of him. It must be truly hard to completely change your life around because of a defect in your DNA.

 “After more than half a year, I knew I needed to go back at some point. I had cut all ties to Chicago and my family. Just left a shitty note when I went, and called two times from a payphone to say that I'm okay.“ Ian's long fingers fumble with the label on his beer and Mickey somehow can't take his eyes off of them. “But before I left, I wanted to take something home with me. Nothing material, but a skill. Something I‘ve learned from my time there. So I took massage classes before I returned back home, knowing I'd have to find peace at work. At home, in a house with five more Gallagher's plus Frank, I probably won't be able to meditate.“

 “Wha- _Frank_? As in Frank-fucking-Gallagher?“

Confused, the redhead scrunches his face, “Yeah, why?“

Ian's a fucking Gallagher. Who would've thought. “Terry,“ he snorts his reply, knowing there's no need for further explanation.

 And he is right. “ _Fuck_ ,“ Ian sighs as the scales fell from his eyes, “Wait, so you're one of Mandy's brothers?“

 “Yeah, you know her?“

The redhead smiles as he reminisces shortly, before shaking his head. “Not really, no. We had chemistry class together in High school. But I wasn't really someone your sister or you would've noticed back then. With my fully freckled face and lanky body. I had no idea what to do with my arms and legs.“

“So? Nothing's changed then,“ Mickey teases him.

“Oh shut up!“ Ian chuckles and kicks his ankle slightly under the table. The brunet enjoys that. Sitting across from Ian, definitely the hottest guy he's ever laid eyes on, having a normal fucking conversation in which, for the fucking first time, he doesn't have to pretend and be just who he wants to be. _Mickey Milkovich_. A southside thug who likes to curse, burp and gets a dick up his ass.

Suddenly, he remembers, “Damn, you're the Gallagher kid that went crazy and took off without saying a word. I’d heard about that.“

“Guilty.“ Ian raises both hands in surrender.

Mickey smirks, liking that Ian didn't feel offended and is being this honest with him. The brunet doesn't know if he himself could be that open with Ian yet. “So we're from the same neighborhood, huh?“

 “Southside.“ Ian nods.

“Southside.“ Mickey agrees. No need to add more to that.

Both take a sip of their beer smiling, their gazes locked. When they both put their drinks back down, Mickey huffs. “ _Huh_ , a Gallagher and a Milkovich meet in a beauty salon in Northside. What a fucking mess!“ he laughs, “If that isn't a story to be told!“ He'd almost let the word “ _lovestory_ “ slip, glad he got his tongue under control just in time.

“Yeah,“ Ian grins at him a bit dreamily, “What a fucking mess!“

From then on, the evening continues to be good and relaxed. They eat their pizzas, Mickey drinking some more beer, while Ian switches to Coke, they joke, laugh and have a damn normal and awesome first date, as far as Mickey can tell. The brunet then pays their bill just as promised before they take their walk home together. It's just as pleasant as their whole evening in Sizzler's, until they stand in front of the Milkovich house and Mickey realizes they've never even kissed before. They've fucked, they've sucked each other off, but they've never shared a kiss.

It seems Ian is also back to being shy, not knowing what to say or do at the moment. Both have their hands tucked inside their pockets, shifting uncomfortably back and forth.

Well, Mickey knows what he wants. Knew it from the moment he asked the redhead out. And since their sex was always initiated by him, he just decides to go for it again. “So,“ he starts, nodding in the direction of his house, “You wanna come in with me?"

A smile crosses Ian's beautiful face. “Another time,“ he says, taking a step closer to the smaller man, whose heart sinks at that. “I've to get up early tomorrow. Work, y'know?!“

The brunet bites his lower lip hard to distract himself from the queasy feeling in his chest, still nodding understanding while staring at his feet.

“But if you'd give me your number, we could do that again some time.“ He hands him his phone and lets Mickey type everything in. “Cool, I give you a call so you've mine, too.“

“Yeah, okay,“ Mickey forces himself to say.

“I had a great time tonight, Mick.“ The brunet feels his guts prickling at the nickname, “Thank you.“ Ian leans down and kisses him on the cheek. On the fucking cheek!

“Yeah, me too, firecrotch.“ He smiles one last time at his masseur before turning around and heading in a different direction than Ian. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more left! xo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter - thank you for all your kind words and especially for reading!
> 
> And thanks to my wonderful beta, @Nicrenkel, who made the story even better! *mwah"
> 
> Enjoy!

“MANDY!“ he yells the moment he enters his house at 1:17am in the fucking morning. Alone. Meaning, w _ithout Ian._

He brazenly trudges through the living room towards Mandy's, and bursts into it. The five beers he’d had tonight seem to have taken his mind away from the possibility that he’d find his sister in the middle of a sex marathon with some serious brat. But it seems he’s lucked out, tonight. _Finally._

“Jesus, sleeping at 1am in the fucking morning is only for losers,“ he bitches over her decent snoring, “Wake the fuck up!“ He then plops down beside her dead-looking body, letting the mattress bounce a little from the vehemence of his body weight, seeming to finally do the trick. She stirs.

Here in Southside, you learn to sleep over noises of guns firing, people screaming, or sirens going off... but get too close to someone’s personal space bubble, even in sleep, and _bam,_ you’re wide awake.

“Good morning, sunshine.“ Mickey mocks, pulling the pillow out from under her head and smacking it across her face.

“Jesus Christ, MICKEY! Fuck off and let me sleep.“ She snaps the pillow out from his hands and tucks it back under her head.

“Yeah, _no!_ Beauty sleep’s over. It’s not helping you, anyway.“

“Because I’m a natural beauty?“

“ _What?“_ he knits his brows in confusion, “Uh.. Sure. Whatever you need to hear to help me out, here.“

“God, Mickey. What have you done?“ she tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes with her palms and sits up against the headboard, “Have you killed Ian?“

Again, the brunet’s eyebrows crease incredulously. “The _fuck?_ NO! I did _not_ kill Ian. Jesus Christ. Why you’re always being so dramatic? It’s more like he’s killing _me_.“

His sister snorts. “Yeah, _I’m_ being the dramatic one right now.“ He stares at her wide eyed, not getting her point at all. “Just… spit it out already so that I can go back to my fucking sleep! What has Ian done exactly that’s killing you?“

“He hasn’t fucked me!“

Mandy’s head turns in slow motion towards him, “And?“

“And?“ he spits, “The fuck you mean, _and?_ I spend more than my weekly paycheck on these fucking clothes to look good for Mr. Shy and Brisk, and he didn‘t even fuck me. That’s it. What’s there not to get?“

“Your point.“

“Jesus Christ, Mandy. Getting context is not really your thing, huh?“ he barks at her, knowing exactly that she’s the wrong person to let his frustration out on. But besides newly Ian, she’s the only constant person in his life. “I’m in the friendzone. Not worth another fuck. Not worth-“ he’s searching for the right word with his hands gesticulating furiously in the air, “ _anything_! He’s done with me.“

There’s a silence for about three seconds, before Mandy blurts out a laugh, “Holy shit, Mick. This Ian guy really messes with you, huh?“

“So you think that, too?“ He can’t hide the worry he’s carrying inside his voice.

“What? _No!“_ his sister’s shaking her head at him with an frustrated sigh, “I’m talking about your feelings, you dipshit. You’re so gone on him that it would be fucking ridiculous, if it wasn’t so cute.“

“It’s not cute!“

“Yeah, of course it’s not cute for you,“ she smiles widely, “but seeing you all in _lov-_ “

“MANDY! Stop talking stupid fucking shit and just tell me, why the fuck I’m all of a sudden in the friendzone, even though he already plowed me once and shoved his dick down my throat the other time.“

“That’s-“ she turns her head to the direction of the nightstand drawer, “that’s just too much information for a pep talk at half past one in the fucking morning!“

God, his sister really wants him to beg for it, doesn’t she?! “ _Mandy,“_ he sighs, as if it’s not embarrassing enough that he came to her in first place to talk about a guy. _The_ guy.

“Alright Mick,“ she faces him again with a soft expression on her tired face, “What makes you think you’re in his friendzone now?“

“I thought we already talked about that. He didn’t fuck me! Even though, he already fucked me!“

“But maybe you're quite the opposite, Mick.“ she tells him with a flickering sparkle in her eyes, “Maybe you are boyfriend material and not only a fuck to him. Maybe he just wants to get to know you better.“

 “I open up best after a good fuck.“

 Mandy snorts, “Go tell _him_ that, not me! Jesus Christ. _He_ wants to be your boyfriend!“

 “You think so?“ the brunet questions her words, not having once thought about that option. He wasn't boyfriend material. Never was, and never thought he would ever be. Especially not for a guy like Ian.

“I think you need to let that possibility open for you. No shutting him out, because he didn't want to fuck you tonight.“ his sister advises him, her tone soft. “Besides,“ she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it lightly to get his attention, “maybe he did and just couldn't for whatever reason.“

His thoughts wander back to the redhead telling him he has to work tomorrow morning; back to a moment in Sizzler's, when Ian was talking once again about his disease and meds and how tired they make him, forcing him to sleep at least for seven hours per night, if he wants to get up the next day. “Yeah, maybe,“ he mumbles, pressing her hand, too. “Thanks, Mands.“ He kisses her on the head, before he gets up and walks towards the door. “G'night!“

“Night, Mick.“

He takes a quick shower and jumps in bed in only his boxer briefs. His mind is more at ease than before the heart to heart he's had with Mandy and he decides that he at least needs to give it a chance. Give _Ian_ a chance to show him that he cares, even if Mickey's instincts tell him to run. Mickey has always known when he enters dangerous terrain. And Ian definitely is danger. At least, a danger for his feelings to get hurt. But then, Ian is also the only man he's ever met who's worth the risk.

He cuddles under his blanket, wishing once again that Ian would've been here with him, before he turns out the light.

Only shortly before he's drifting off, his phone chirps.

+17738659932 (1:58am): “That's my number. Hope you'll use it often ;) Had a great time today, thanks Mick. Night -I.“

And maybe, giving Ian a chance isn't that hard.

 

 

Over the following ten days, they met up four times. Hung out. Dated. Whatever. Mickey has no idea what to call it. He only knows that those were the most wonderful and frustrating ten days of his entire life. They get along with each other so well, joking around, teasing one another-- and there definitely was some flirting, too! So Mickey can’t for the life of him understand why they have neither kissed, nor fucked! And Mickey was horny, _so,_ so horny!

He had a lot of jerking off to do, before and after every meeting. And all the days in between. It was exasperating, wishing every time that it were Ian's soft and oily hands stroking him and his dick ramming in and out. Not some stupid toy.

And yet, Mickey thought he had done everything right. He invited Ian to the cinema, sharing a big box of popcorn; their fingers always brushing against one anothers (unintentionally, of course).

Two days later, they went to a car race, and out for burgers afterwards. Talking for hours about..fucking EVERYTHING. It was funny, interesting, exciting... and disappointing in the end, when Ian went, once again, in a different direction than the brunet.

The next time, Ian took him to the gym, which proved to be a frustrating challenge. Fighting with all of his strength against the growing problem inside his pants while watching Ian working out; his sweaty muscles twitching will forever be the sexiest fucking thing he's ever seen. He only wanted to rush forward and kiss the ginger idiot with all his heart, letting his hands roam over that fucking body! But Mickey held back, since Ian didn't make any attempts for himself and the brunet didn't want to always be the one initiating things between them. He doesn't want to force Ian to do something, doesn't want to rush things, since the redhead seems to be content with what this is... friendship with eye-fucking bonus. Because _that's_ definitely something Ian does. _Always_. And it's driving Mickey nuts! As much as he's enjoying the green puppy eyes on him, boring into him, he wants his dick to fuck him 24/7!

The fourth time, Ian picked him up from work and took him out for coffee and pie. COFFEE AND PIE! Mickey was starting to think he had won. What other dude picks a _friend_ up from work for coffee and pie?! No one. At least, no one Mickey knows...

And still, he remained unfucked! Four dates later, ten days after their first date, 26 days after their first encounter, _and Ian still hasn’t kissed him or fucked him again_. It's devastating. Maybe the redhead doesn't want to kiss him? Maybe he was right after their first date, and he's somehow landed in Ian's friendzone. Maybe he just _isn‘t_ boyfriend material.

God, it’s so frustrating, having to think about that the whole day during the long period of time it takes before he finally falls asleep. His thoughts are like an endless loop in his head, questioning all the things Ian does or doesn’t do. He’s more sexually frustrated than he was all those months without having a single dick up his ass. It’s way more painful to _want_ a specific cock and the person that’s spending a lot of time with you, and _not_ get it.

He sighs crestfallen as he pours himself a bowl of milk, filling it with sugary cereals, and plops heavily down onto his seat.

“Jesus Christ, you look like a fucking dead zombie!“ his sister complains across from him. He didn’t even notice her before. “Can you _please_ just fucking go to Ian and hop on his dick? Your mood is fucking unbearable!“

“Can’t,“ he huffs, shoving a spoon full of Fruity Loops in his mouth. Not even all the sweets he liked taste the same anymore since he had Ian's cock down his throat. Everything’s dwarfed by Ian.

_Fucking Ian!_

“And why the fuck not?“ his sister asks, annoyed, setting her coffee cup back down.

The brunet swallows the bitter taste down, staring at her wide eyed, “ _Because-_ “ That’s all he gets out. He doesn’t have an explanation for this shitty friendzone situation he can’t seem to escape.

“Because _what,_ Mick? You wouldn’t know how to climb back down, or what? What the fuck is your problem?“

“Fuck off!“ he threw back at her, shoving another spoon in his mouth, the milk dripping out of the corners.

“Then let me have my morning coffee without your whining, you pussy!“

Defeated, he eats his breakfast in silence, trying hard to not let another sob escape his lips. He lasted for about two and a half minutes. “Why doesn’t he wanna fuck me, Mands? What is his problem? He didn’t have a problem two weeks ago, when he pounded me good and-“

“Alright, alright!“ his sister gets up with her half full cup, walking to the sink and pouring the rest into it. “Who needs coffee anyway? Never tasted that good.“ She puts it away, turns around to face her miserable brother and leans against the counter. “God, this gingerbread really did it to you, huh? You’re totally in love and want to be his boyfriend!“

“ _Mandy_!“

“No, you want my help, you accept the L- and B-word!“

He exhales heavily through his nostrils, doing his best not to fight it. He’s amazed, how easy it is not to protest. He _is_ in love with Ian. And he w _ants_ to be his boyfriend. Seems like he doesn’t need to talk, Mandy gets the message.

“Okay, listen-“ she starts, crossing her arms in front of her chest, preparing for her argument, “I saw Ian when he picked you up for the car race and the gym. And I noticed the way he looked at you, Mick. You don’t need to be scared. He’s just as gone on you as you are on him.“

“How’d you know that?“ Mickey asks, chewing nervously on his lower lip.

Mandy walks up to him, propping herself up on the table beside him, lowering her voice, “Because he had that look in his eyes.“

“What look?“

But she’s already turning around and heading to the direction of the door to go to work. “You know the look, Mickey. You can see it whenever he’s around you.“ With that, she grabs her coat and leaves him behind, dumbfounded.

The brunet leans back in his seat, pushing his cereal bowl away. He’s not hungry anymore. At least not for _that._

His sister’s words buzz around in his head for a while, not once giving him a short break. _Yes_ , he knows that look. He can see it reflecting in the mirror, when he thinks of a certain redhead and he sees Ian wearing it, whenever they are together. That’s right, he has to give Mandy that. It’s also the only thing that keeps Mickey from losing his hope completely.

But still. Ian hadn’t made one single move in the past few days. Not that he made one, either. But that’s because he did it the last two times. At least the physical ones, before it came to sex.

Thinking about different moves, he does have to give Ian credit; he’s the one texting Mickey everyday, in the morning after he gets up and in the evening before he goes to sleep. And sometimes he texts Mickey during the day to complain about some gross clients or his annoying bunch of siblings.

Well.. sometimes he also just texts, to tell Mickey a joke he’s heard just now, or ask him things he doesn’t know about him yet, like his favorite band, or actor. Or he wants to know Mickey’s opinion, for example, on how long it takes the food in a giraffe’s mouth to reach its stomach. Considering the long way it has to take down their throats. _Dork._

And one time he even texted him, that he misses Mickey and can’t wait to see him again. So yeah.. Ian may not have taken a physical step towards him in the past few days. But he may have done it otherwise. Right?

But this insecurity is exactly the thing that’s killing Mickey. Are Ian’s messages and his eyefucking enough indications that he‘s in love with him? How the fuck should Mickey know? He’s never experienced _love._ He was never loved by his father or mother, who took off when he was five. And he never had a boyfriend or something serious going on with another man. The only feelings he can relate with love are the ones towards his sister. And that’s definitely some other form than the feelings he has for Ian Gallagher.

 _God,_ he’s so lost! Lost in a sea of emotions and thoughts he‘s never had for someone before. And it’s probably a good thing, that he’s able to experience them now. A thing, that’s worth the shot of trying.

He knew from the beginning that, despite being a filthy beast in bed, Ian’s usually a shy guy. A sincere and honest man who’s not trying to hurt anyone’s feelings. So maybe, if Mickey wasn’t that brisk, things wouldn’t have happened and started between them. Maybe Ian just needs some kicks to allow himself to make a move. Like the kind of kicks Mickey gets from his sister.

Kicks that encourage him to give it another try. Things need to change. And if you’d ask Mickey, they need to change soon to further his well being. And his sex life.

And maybe it's a good sign that today is Wednesday, and he only has to work until 4.30 pm, which allows him to be at Ian’s studio at 5pm.

 

 

He can’t deny the way his heart is galloping in his chest when he enters the studio. He’s nervous. God, who is he kidding? He is almost shitting himself. He’s here to put the cards on the table; to define where they are standing.

It’s ironic. Mickey never in one hundred years would’ve thought _he’d_ be the one pushing for a relationship. But here he is. Standing in the fancy corridor of this fucking pastel colored beauty salon, with the secretary eying him suspiciously.

“Mr. Milkovich,“ she greets him, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, “Here for Mr. Gallagher?“

“Uhm, yeah,“ he stammers, hiding his wet palms inside his pockets and shifting nervously from foot to foot, “He here?“

The brunet already sees her nodding, but before she’s able to speak, he hears the soft voice of an angel approaching him.

“ _Mickey_.“ It’s more like a sigh. It’s always like a sigh when Ian _fucking_ Gallagher says his name. And embarrassing truth is, it hits Mickey every goddamn time like a punch to his lungs, taking his breath away and making his knees wobble. Fucking pathetic! “What are you doing here?“

He turns around and stares with surprised, but definitely not unhappy big green eyes. Swallowing down the dry lump in his throat, he forces himself to remember why he’s here in first place. “I want a massage.“

Ian’s eyebrows fly as high as they can, his pupils flickering with pure astonishment. “You want a massage?“

“Yeah.“

The redhead nods slowly, turning to Susan, who’s watching them with impudent amusement. “Alright Susan, I got this.“

With that, Mickey once again finds himself trotting behind Ian to his massage room, the place where it all began. Maybe it’s also where it’s all gonna end.

The brunet shakes his head at the thought, not wanting to deluge himself with worst case scenarios right now. He closes the door behind him, to find Ian already staring perplexed at him when he turns back around. “You want a massage?“

“Jesus Gallagher, did I slur my words? How many times you gonna ask me that shit?“ His nervousness is definitely taking over him, though Ian doesn’t seem to mind his brashness. “Yeah I want a fucking massage.“

They lock their gazes and the redhead nods his understanding, clapping his hands to show his willingness. It’s then that Mickey figures it’s best time for the truth. “Looks like you won’t touch me otherwise,“ he murmurs.

“Huh?“

“Don’t make me say it again, asswipe.“ He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking anywhere but the guy he aches for.

“What do you mean ‘I won’t touch you otherwise‘, Mickey?“ Ian’s bafflement is swinging thick through his voice, while he’s still standing a few feet away from Mickey, frozen in place.

Frustrated that it’s not that easy to talk about feelings, the smaller man scoffs, “Means, I’m not a fucking dating type, Ian.“ His eyes wander from the floor, over Ian’s beautiful body back to his eyes, where they finally fix. “Means, I enjoyed all that. I really did. But-“ he takes a deep breath, once again letting his baby blue’s dart across the room, before he’s ready to face the ginger again, “but I want more.“

 _There it is._ The truth. Hanging awkward in the silence between them. Mickey doesn’t know if it’s a good sign, that Ian’s mouth gapes open, though he’s not able to get anything out. The only thing he knows is, that he can’t take the quiet and breaks it, “I don't wanna be your friend, Ian. I wanna be touched by you, kissed and fucking-“ he throws his hands up in surrender, demonstrating his misery, “fucked!“

There’s now a definite grin spreading over Ian’s freckled face, but he’s still not talking. Goddamn it, the only thing Mickey isn’t remotely good at is the one thing he has to do now, to win the redhead over – talking about fucking emotions!

“Means that since I met you I'm going through heaven and hell. You give me hot and cold here and I have no fucking clue what to do with that, Ian!“

“ _Mickey_ -“ again this fucking sigh! And it’s the first thing Ian said to him since his outburst, taking a step closer to Mickey’s personal space. But he can’t take it right now, stepping one step back and stretching his hand out in self-protection. He needs to get everything out, before Ian can start breaking his heart.

“Like I said, Gallagher. I'm not a dating type - never done that shit before, except for your pale ass. So can you _please_ fucking tell me, if you-“ he stops himself, biting hard on his lower lip for encouragement, before glancing at Ian, “if you want me, or not?“

Big green eyes turn glassy as they stare back at him for a few heartbeats that feel like eternity. Mickey can hear the clock ticking, before Ian finally rushes forwards.“ _Fuck_!“ he whispers, grabbing for the brunet, “C'mere, Mick!“

Without having time to realize Ian's hurt in his voice, the redhead's there, crashing their lips together and gliding his smoothly over Mickey's. Within those few seconds, the older man's whole body seems to explode, his knees wobbling. “I'm so sorry that you didn't notice how much I’ve fucking wanted you since the moment you walked through that door. I -“ he stops shortly, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb to the hairline of Mickey's neck, locking their gaze with their noses bumping, “I just have never felt that much for someone before and didn't want to fuck it up, Mick. I thought you should know what you get yourself into with me with all the bipolar shit, before we go any further.“ Ian pecks him on the lips, still cradling his face and holding him close, “Cause I couldn't let you go again if I'd have let you closer and you'd have chosen not to be with me. It would've broken me.“

“Stop with that shit, man!“ Mickey gets out, leaning back from Ian's touch to stare at him slightly furious, the ginger obviously confused about that move. “As if your fucking disease would have any influence on my fucking feelings for you, Ian.“ He watches the taller man breaking the gaze to glance around mechanically, swallowing thickly. Now Mickey's hands engulf Ian's pretty face to stroke his soft cheeks and force him to look back, clearly touched. “If anything, it has made you even stronger in my eyes.“

Ian doesn't use words anymore to express his overwhelming feelings for the brunet. Instead he captures Mickey's mouth again, nibbling softly on the lower lip. Without thinking twice, Mickey opens up, letting Ian's tongue enter him for the first time.

Sighs and hot breaths are exchanged and absorbed, while they make out lazily in the middle of Ian's massage room. Their hands roam from their faces, over shoulders to their lower backs and back up, as if exploring their bodies for the first time. Only when Mickey feels them both harden in their pants and starts grinding upwards to Ian, the taller one moves them slowly to the bed. He takes a handful of Mickey's ass and squeezes it, before lifting him upwards and setting him down on the mattress. “You came for a massage, right?!“ he asks cocky, both panting from their lust and libido.

Mickey's fingers curl into the white fabric of Ian's shirt to pull him closer between his thighs and remove the shirt from his body. He throws it on the floor, letting his hands travel across that muscular chest. “I changed my mind,“ he says, his fingers boring into Ian's abs, “I wanna massage _you_.“

The redhead, standing upright in front of him, chuckles; his fingers sliding through Mickey's jet black hair. “And why's that?“

Mickey's hands wander down to Ian's hip bones, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants and boxers. His mouth is watering when he pulls them down and finds Ian's erection standing straight. “I was under your touch from day one, that's how you got under my skin, man.“ he mumbles, pressing kisses to Ian's chest and further down his pelvis. Ian's breath stutters. “Now I wanna do the same to you.“

“You already did that,“ he mutters, before Mickey jumps back down from the mattress, pressing his chest against Ian's and turning them around.

“Lay down,“ the brunet instructs and Ian obeys, getting on his back on the bed. “Aah, you‘re already ready for the front massage, huh?!“

“Yeah. Wanna see you.“ Ian purrs, when Mickey fully removes his clothes from his body, before getting naked on his own. In an instant, Ian's hands are on his bare ass, pulling him close. “Wanna touch you.“

“ _Uh uh_ ,“ Mickey shakes his head, “No hands. Not on _my_ body this time.“ He turns around and steps to the counter, pouring some oil in his palms and warming it. He hears Ian letting out a frustrated sound and gets behind his head, starting to rub his temples and forehead in slow motions.

“ _Mhmm_ , Mickey, that feels good,“ the redhead moans, closing his eyes. “No one ever did that for me before.“

“Good,“ the smaller man huffs, letting his fingers slide onto Ian's cheeks to draw soft patterns there, “I wanna be the only one from now on making you feel good,“ he confesses, stunned about his own words being so determined. But he wants Ian. He wants him so fucking badly his heart aches at the thought.

“You _are_ the only one who ever made me feel this good, Mick. Since day one.“

The brunet feels his heart speeding up, not understanding how _everyone_ wouldn’t want to make Ian feel good and win his heart over. He guesses that's his luck. He starts gliding down his neck to his shoulders, massaging the knots out of it, every now and then wandering to his toned chest, just for his own pleasure. God, this body!

He traces his oily index fingers around Ian's nipples, watching them going stiff. “Mickey..“ the younger one sighs under his touch, both of their dicks twitching. But Mickey isn’t going to do anything about their aching arousal, yet. Instead he wants to focus fully on making the redhead feel good. That includes the agonizingly slow massage while being completely turned on, that Mickey went through on their first meeting.

He pours a bit more oil on Ian’s stomach, watching his belly flip in desire and steps around the mattress, on Ian’s laying side. He spreads the oil over Ian’s warm and soft skin, getting closer to the leaking shaft with every stroke. Still, he’s avoiding it on purpose, which seems to make the redhead go a little crazy. His body shivers every time Mickey’s fingers slide over his waistline or alongside his hips to the beginning of his thighs. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t beg. _Yet._

Mickey knows he’s desperate. He can see it with every throbbing of his dick, which, as a result, makes the brunet’s dick scream for more attention. He knows he can’t neglect it any longer. Not when there’s a pool of precome forming on Ian’s abs. “Goddamn, you’re leaking,“ he whispers, not able to tear his eyes away from the beauty of Ian’s groin, while his hands keep roaming down his thighs.

“So do something about it,“ Ian breathes, his need shuddering through his words.

Still, Mickey starts massaging his thighs and shanks until he reaches his feet and rubs his fingers and knuckles against his sole. He treats each toe with precision, biting his lip hard to keep his own lust in bay. But after what feels like hours, Ian already being a panting mess underneath him, he spreads the redhead's legs and kneels between them on the mattress. He crawls closer, until he hovers above the shiny red erection, smiling, excited about what he was capable of-- without even touching Ian where he wants it the most.

He bends down, hearing Ian’s breath stuttering in anticipation before he licks over the salty puddle that gathers beneath his navel. It’s definitely not the move Ian has suspected, which can be said by the frustrated tone that swings within his voice, “ _Mick._ “

It emits a soft chuckle from the brunet, licking up again a stripe of Ian’s precome, savouring it on his tongue. “Mhmm.“ There are a few more broken moans and pants, coming from Ian’s side, while Mickey makes sure to get every drop from his burning skin, before he decides that he also needs more.

He takes Ian’s dick in his hands and guides it to his open mouth to let his tongue swivel over his slit. It’s the first time green eyes rip open again to stare down on him. Mickey lets the tip of his tongue lick hastily over Ian’s glistening head, before sucking the salty taste out of his slit. It’s fucking good. Not only the sounds full of despair that are filling the air, but also knowing Ian’s pleading eyes are following each of his movements. He decides to extend the show.

He presses his chest further down, while at the same time lifting his ass up for Ian to have a good sight of it. One of his still oily hands wanders to his opening, showing him how he penetrates himself with his first finger. His pupils stare at Ian’s aroused face, which makes the slight burn of his hole bearable. He pushes further until it’s all in, sucking Ian deep down his throat for the first time and moaning around his length from the pleasure he’s given.

“Oh _fuck,_ “ Ian sighs, his lips dry and parted from all the short breaths coming through, “please let me touch you.“

“Uh uh,“ Mickey forbids with his mouth full of cock, sucking and licking up and down eagerly. He adds the second finger, seeing Ian biting hard on his lips while watching him, which makes him smirk. He loves to drive the ginger wild. While swallowing a few times around the length in his mouth, he scissors himself, the wonderful pain making him even more excited about what’s to come. He feels his own dick dripping drops of lust between his thighs and decides to put an end to their misery.

Engulfing one last time the head of Ian’s dick with his swollen lips, he sucks hard, making the other one tremble and groan. Fingers reach into his hair, when Ian’s hips buckle up, trying to get him further down again. Mickey pulls his fingers out of his ass and lets go of Ian’s heavy dick. “No touching!“

“You’re torturing me, here!“ Ian pants, while Mickey crawls smirking and very slowly over the redhead’s body. His hands on either side of Ian’s face, his knees clamping his hips, he leans down to get another sweet kiss out of his lover. Their tongues have a mingling dance, where they both savor the taste of each other. It’s that moment Mickey curses himself inwardly for not letting the redhead get his hands all over him. But he enjoys having the control for the first time since sleeping with Ian too much to give up on it yet.

They exchange their moans in each other’s mouths, while Mickey settles in Ian’s lap, rocking forward for some friction on their dicks. It’s fucking beautiful, hovering above a blissful Ian and having all the time in the world to kiss him sweet and slow, his hips rocking slightly on Ian’s loins.

It’s only when their lips are already too raw and swollen that Mickey gets back up in a sitting position and guides Ian’s cock to his entrance. He pauses for a moment of rationality, asking Ian if he’s clean. When the redhead only nods his agreement, he sighs a satisfied “Good,“ before getting Ian’s tip inside of him.

Both let out a whine full of pleasure, being connected like this. Mickey doesn’t sink down, doesn’t go any further, just starts riding on Ian’s tip. He knows he's teasing Ian to his limits, according to his hoarse breaths and moans. But he doesn't want to change anything about it yet, the tip alone making him feel too good to stop. So he rides the hell out of it, deciding that the more he's able to wreck the redhead, the better. He for sure doesn't get over his painfully lust filled look, or the way he's wiggling beneath his hovering body, while he changes from little up and down movements to circling rotations. “Fuck, that tip!“ he groans, perfectly stretched around it already.

“That tip is gonna explode any fucking moment, if you don't stop teasing me,“ Ian pants in frustration, evoking a mischievous grin on the brunets face. Mickey sees Ian's hands clamping shakily on the edge of the mattress, suppressing the urge to touch. “God Mickey, I want you.“

With that, Mickey sinks down, bottoming out in a matter of seconds, not taking any more time to adjust. He starts riding him hard and fast, slamming down to let his sweet spot be jammed with every rocking movement. “Fuck, Ian!“ he keens, barely able to believe how lucky he is, to have found a man like this, who is able to please him like no other ever did. And the fucker doesn't even need to do a lot for it. It's enough for him to just lay there and let Mickey take whatever he wants. What he needs.

With a dick like that inside of him, he knows it won't take him long to fall over the edge. He can already feel it approaching, his toes curling, his balls tightening, the shiver of pleasure running through his whole system. He's so aroused from Ian's cock stretching him like that, so blissed out from the shock of electricity whenever he thrusts down on his prostate, that he just wants the bittersweet act to take its wonderful end.

One of his hands wanders to his dick, already leaking oodles of precome onto his lover's stomach. But when his fingers finally wrap around his girth and his eyes squeeze shut to enjoy the last few moments, his hand is slapped away. “ _Uh uh_.. you said no hands!“ Ian is grinning viciously, when Mickey locks irritated their gaze and is pulled forward on his wrists.

“I said not _your_ hands on my body.“ Mickey wiggles his brows, their noses bumping.

Ian has his wrists in a tight grip, each hand on either side of his beautiful face, Mickey's chest pressed on his. “I only got, no hands on your body.“

With a soft chuckle escaping him, the brunet leans forward, kissing him and taking both of their breaths away. While their tongues seem to melt, Mickey's body starts to move back and forth above Ian again, creating a wonderful friction on his cock. The redhead still doesn't let go of him, his thumbs rubbing circles into Mickey's hands. When the older one's rolling of his hips gets rougher and more desperate, their mouths open up a bit to share ragged pants.

“Ian, I need to cum!“ Mickey stutters, when the rubbing of his dick against Ian's soft skin and the cock hitting his prostate becomes almost too overwhelming to bear, but isn't entirely enough for him to climax, yet.

“Then cum,“ the redheaded fucker prompts him, while having that sexy, fucking teasing grin on his lips.

Mickey throws his head back, tilting his neck, riding Ian harder into the mattress for the friction to become even more intense. He feels his world spinning, his whole body prickling, his balls and hole contracting. But still. “Fuck, I... I can't,“ he whines, attacking Ian's lips again and biting it harshly.

With that cocky smirk still on his face and one eyebrow raised in challenge, Ian asks, “Need some help?“

The brunet isn't really able to respond, no coherent words form in his brain. It's a mash of hazy fog and pleasure, Mickey can't escape. But he needs this release so fucking bad, it hurts. With a short soft nod against Ian's nose, the ginger seems to get the message. Though he's not letting go of Mickey's wrists to stroke him, as expected. Instead, he presses the heels of his feet into the mattress and buckles up.

So now Ian's dick is not only hitting his prostate every goddamn time, but it's pushing it with constant pressure with every slide of Mickey over Ian's lifted hips. It never lets go and Mickey swears he sees stars. “Holy fuck, _Ian_!“ he punches out of his chest, while he rides harder, faster, rougher and so fucking desperate. He can already feel his orgasm on the brink of his body, his movements becoming erratically. He's acting on instinct, chasing the phenomenal high he knows is coming.

Ian's pupils are dilated, his face flushed and sweaty as he watches him with awe bouncing on his cock and rubbing his dick against his abs. That, plus the heavy throbbing of his length against Ian's hard stomach, the painful pleasure of the stretching of his hole and the perpetual stimulation of his overly sensitive spot is enough. “ _Ian_!“ he once again pants unsteadily, before he finally feels the endorphins crashing down on him.

His thighs begin shaking, his whole body trembling against Ian‘s, as he shoots his load and convulses around the redhead's dick. “Oh shit, Mick!“ While Mickey loses himself completely in the otherworldly orgasm he's having, Ian seems to lose himself in the sight of a blissed out Mickey. He forgets all the rules in the haze of his need, letting go of Mickey's wrists to dig his fingers into the brunet's asscheeks and move him more steadily and heavy against him, since Mickey has lost the rhythm.

It causes the waves of Mickey's orgasm not to float away, making it even more intense for one last time. When Ian bites into his neck and lets out a mutual groan, Mickey feels himself getting filled with his load. It's the moment he feels his own dick twitching again between their bodies and shoots the last shot of his cum.

Both are quivering and whimpering against each other as they enjoy floating through their highs and aftershocks, Ian covering Mickey's damp skin with sweet kisses. The brunet feels himself smile so wide, it would be embarrassing if he would give a flying shit. But he's... _happy_! This was the best time he had sex with anyone. Even the best sex he's had with Ian. And that really is something that's hard to top. But to be able to admit his feelings and also be so lucky to have them reciprocated is simply mind-blowing.

“Fuck,“ he huffs happily, moving to sit back on Ian and feel his dick soften inside him, with all the warm cum coating his walls. “Why again did you play hard to get?“ he clicks his tongue playfully.

“I did _not_ play hard to get,“ Ian laughs, pinching him in the sides, “If I remember things correctly, _I_ was the one initiating almost every date.“

“And if _I_ remember things correctly, you were also the one denying me this dick every goddamn time.“ Mickey circles his hips to emphasize his words, making Ian moan once again.

“So you sayin‘ I got you dickwhipped?“ the redhead tilts his head to the side, one brow climbing up teasingly, “Huh?“

“Yeah,“ the brunet breaths, leaning down once more to peck his ginger on the lips, “and other bad things, too.“

Ian seems to enjoy this game, smiling brightly. “Oh yeah? Like what?“

“Like..“ he pauses, still face to face with his lover. He has no idea how to say cheesy shit like that, but for Ian, he gives it a try. “Like stealing my heart and not giving it back.“

“That’s good,“ Ian replies grinning, locking his hands behind Mickey’s back to pull him even closer. Both enjoy that they’re still connected in the very best way, “and I’m not giving it back, as long as you hold mine.“

The brunet just has to roll his eyes at that, before he leans down and kisses his boyfriend with all of the passion and love in his heart. The love that has finally set him free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please share your thoughts about the story with me. If you liked it, drop a kudo and/or a comment below, it would make me very happy!
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> xoxo


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